How The Mighty Have Fallen
by DeadChickenRunning
Summary: The tournament begins, and spectacularly fails to improve matters. Disqualification, defeat and injury! Contains violence and mild language. New takes on familiar characters. This will be completed, I swear it.
1. Miracles

Legal stuffish: Capcom owns all their stuff. All of it. I do not. I own my idea(s), story(ies), plot(s) and complication(s), and any original people that may crop up. Please don't rip me off (use or post elsewhere without permission). And now, the main attraction:

Miracles

Sagat thought of pulling himself to his feet. A Tiger Genocide was never easy to instantly recover from, but recovering from one right after being pummeled by a Psycho Crusher was infinitely harder. So he had sank to his knees after delivering the final blow. The garage floor wasn't that comfortable, but it seemed easier than standing. But now, Bison's favorite assassin was streaking towards him with all of his famed speed. Dying on his knees was a repulsive thought to Sagat. _When I can defeat Bison and Vega on the same day, that is the day I go and ransack Akuma's sock drawer. And I'll have a ki reserve the size of the oceans. _As Sagat slowly stood to meet the new challenge, Vega halved the distance between them. _If he knew Bison was dead, Vega probably wouldn't attack me. But the instinct of a killer is to kill._

Falling back into a defensive posture, Sagat awaited the first deadly rush of the Spanish ninja. It never came. Ten feet from Sagat, Cammy's Cannon Strike intercepted Vega. Too tired to do anything but watch, Sagat saw Vega recover from the ambush and  lunge, his weapon streaking for Cammy's neck. The claw met only air, as Cammy blurred with an enormous output of ki. Cammy started her Reverse Shaft Breaker underneath the jaw of Vega, praying she was making the right decision. Steel-toed boots of the Killer Bee bent and crushed the mask, cutting open the face of red-eyed insanity.

Sagat was surprised as Vega's body fell to the floor with the grace of a marionette that had its strings cut, but was too exhausted to show it. "I thank you, Cammy. How did you know?"

"Know what? I was-wait! He's getting back up! Damn!" As the giant and the doll watched, Vega got to his hands and feet. Then an unprecedented event: Vega removed his mask. Both Sagat and Cammy had seen Vega without his mask, but it was rumored that only Bison had ever seen him put it on or off. Blood smeared his face, rendering the royal assassin nearly unrecognizable.

"What's he doing, Sagat? I was sure that he would try to kill me after I delivered a full Reverse Shaft Breaker to his face. I mean, he's so protective of his looks, and-"

"And he's just looking around. The way he landed, I thought he was unconscious. Maybe he doesn't want to be damaged anymore. I don't know. Let's just be thankful."

"TRAITORS!"

Balrog rushed from the door that Vega had come through. The boxer had been twelve seconds behind Vega, and his fists were raised. As if that wasn't bad enough, Vega put his mask back on as Sagat felt a quick buildup of Vega's ki. But as the disgraced heavyweight champ came even with Vega, Vega redirected Balrog's momentum upwards. The image froze forever in Sagat's mind. Balrog suspended in the air, directly above the waiting claw of Vega. Cammy was an assassin, but the speed at which the more seasoned killer brought the end made her give a little gasp. Vega completed his Red Impact, his claw sticking up through the chest of the quickly dying Balrog. A high pitched giggle was heard, one body sliding down to make a pair of the dead on the floor of the Shadaloo garage.

The backstabbing complete, Vega ripped the mask off with more force than before, shivering from an invisible chill. Sagat had seen enough. "Let's go, Cammy. Two miracles may not be followed by a third."

"But what about the others?"

"What?"

"I'm not leaving without the other girls!"

Sagat couldn't believe his ears. "We may not get another chance to get out! Vega and Balrog are both out of our way, and we can bluff our way out in the confusion! We'll send help for them later. The Americans and-" Sagat cut himself off as he noticed Vega disappearing into the shadows. What else had he missed while quarrelling with Cammy? He looked around as best as he could with his one eye, but also searching out the location of a new ki signature.

"And because we may not get another chance is why we should rescue the rest now! They could move them while we're gone, and we'll never have this chance again! I won't leave!" Cammy was oblivious to the absence of Vega and to the approach of the foreign ki.

Sagat was about to leave her there when he noticed the new ki's source: an unusual man coming down the hall that he had planned to use to get to the surface. He was unusual in that he was an inch or two taller than Sagat, and covered in jungle camouflage instead of the usual Shadaloo uniform. And coming straight at them. In his wake was a now unmanned guard post, the unconscious soldiers sitting against the wall and draped over furniture like debris after a hurricane. His expenditure of ki in dealing with the post had probably been what allowed Sagat to sense him, assisting Sagat's search.

Sagat stepped between the incoming unknown and Cammy, ignoring Cammy for now, believing that his incredible run of luck had ended. He quickly went through the events that had transpired. _First I defeat Bison, then Cammy somehow stops Vega, or Vega stops on his own, then Vega kills Balrog. Balrog was the main reason I wanted out so quickly. Couldn't take on that brute so soon after Bison. I wasn't expecting Vega at all, but I knew that the Emperor's attack dog would try and get revenge. Too bad I didn't prepare like I wanted to._

Sagat looked down at his fists. They were taped to his forearms, as were his ankles to the shins. It was a very rare occurrence anymore in fighting circles, but Sagat had thought about dipping his taped knuckles in tar. The tarred knuckles would then be dipped in a bucket of broken glass, forming a devastating weapon. The chance that his enhanced fists would tip off Bison had checked him.

The man stopped eight feet from Sagat and asked a question. Sagat's English wasn't that bad, but the man's accent rendered him impossible to understand. Nevertheless, he sounded threatening. Sagat raised his fists to the classic Muay Thai ready position and waited for the fight to come. The man raised his hands as well, ready for chopping or spearing. Cammy ran around Sagat, in between the two monolithic fighters. In Thai she yelled "Wait!" to Sagat, then talked to the other fighter in English too quickly for Sagat to follow.

"He knows Doll 12 and Doll 13, came to get them. I'm going to help him."

Sagat became extremely appreciative that Cammy's assignments had included America and Great Britain. He was much more prepared for a fight than when Vega had entered, but nowhere near ready for a battle that the man before him would require. "Cammy, you'll need the Psycho Drive to save the dolls. Here."

Reaching into his pocket, Sagat drew out a notebook barely bigger than two of his fingers. "I was planning on trying to save all of you, but Vega and Balrog make me want to get out as soon as possible. This notebook holds the settings and activation codes you will need to operate the Psycho Drive. You will also need an electronic security card to get there, or some other way through the doors."

Cammy took off her beret and placed the notebook inside, next to a credit card-like item that could only be a security card. "Thank you, Sagat. I was planning this for some time, but I could not get the codes for the Psycho Drive. It seems that miracles happen more often than you think. I can't thank you enough right now." Cammy gave a shuddering sigh. "And I don't know if we'll meet again after this, but if you can, be at the next tournament, even if you do not participate. I'll meet you there."

"I will be there. You and your new friend be careful. I saw Vega skulk away somewhere. Good luck, Cammy."

Sagat turned and left, the sounds of introductions and plans between T. Hawk and Cammy fading behind him, and the sweet air of freedom before him. _Maybe I WILL go challenge Akuma._


	2. The Fall of a Gentleman

The Fall of a Gentleman

Dudley picked himself off the ground. Again. _This is why only gentlemen should be involved in the sweet science._ His uncouth opponent was coming towards him. Still. Dudley reached into the depths of his reserves and unleashed an attack that should have annihilated his opponent. His ungloved fists rushed past his opponent's defenses, impacting the jaw, nose, ribs. His hardened knuckles split the skin, spilt blood, but he still could not knock down the Ansatsuken fighter. Some thought that the style was called Shotokan, but that was a weak, non-deadly style. Ansatsuken could kill. Dudley had no doubts that his opponent meant to kill him, unlike at the start of the fight.

The fight had started unexpectedly. There had been no formal challenge, no placing of gentlemanly bets, no time to prepare. Tea time had been what he was preparing for, not a fight to survive. Dudley had not fought without his gloves for over three years, and for another eight before that last incident. _Perhaps it is for the better. I can do more damage without my gloves, but this brawling is far from a gentleman's fight. But if this is not a gentleman's fight, I am freed from the restraints that comes with being a gentleman._ The kick that got past his guard bent Dudley over double, setting him up to receive a left cross to the head. A plan for survival began to form, but necessitated a change in location. Dudley began to fall back towards his garden. Sensing a retreat, his opponent rushed in to prevent an escape. Dudley responded with a low blow that would have reduced most men to vomiting wrecks, but again his opponent absorbed the damage without falling, folding in half, but it was the grunt of pain that was hope for Dudley. _If you can damage him, he can be stopped. He can be stopped._

Taking advantage of the moment, Dudley dropped an elbow into the back of his opponent's head, then swiftly brought a knee up to his face. The break in Dudley's decorum seemed to stun the fighter before him more than the damage taken from the unusual combination, and Dudley took full advantage. _Rolling Thunder!_  Blow after blow thudded against his opponent, then finally knocked him away and down. Pausing to rest and revel in the fact that he wasn't the one picking himself off the ground for once in this fight, Dudley watched as his foe got to his hands and knees, then turned and ran to his garden. It was not worth waiting to see the fighter stand and shake off the effects of a technique that had caused many others to keel over.

Dudley had no delusions of running away from Akuma. His ki signature was too imprinted in Akuma's face and body to hope complete escape. So he stood at the crossroads just inside the entrance of his garden, surrounded by high walls of plants that were not yet in bloom. He had always loved the blossoms that were his mother's favorite, the roses, the most royal of all flowers, and he had quite a collection of them. Beautiful, fragrant, and ready to defend those qualities against invaders. _Here I make my stand._ An honest man, Dudley did not deceive himself with hopes of defeating Akuma. Akuma was not holding back, as in the past. Fully powered and with full effort, he was nigh unto unstoppable. _But, as the Good Book says, 'the race is not always to the swift, the fight is not always to the mighty, but time and chance are involved in all.' Perhaps if fortune smiles upon me, and turns her back on him… Who knows?_

Dudley rested, allowing his boxer's stamina to revitalize him. But all too soon, before the time between rounds in a boxing match would have been complete, Akuma stepped into the garden. Akuma skipped forward with a punch, and the two warriors traded blows until Akuma's superior endurance began to show. Dudley sensed a swing in the momentum as Akuma began to land more and more blows, and resorted again to his back alley roots, before he regained his family's honor and wealth. A stiff thumb in the eye stopped the assault, and allowed Dudley to pick his opponent up to throw. Even half blinded, Akuma drove a knee home to Dudley's kidneys as he was being flung. 

Akuma flipped over in the air to watch Dudley sink to one knee, grimacing at the pain in his back. Making sure his feet were beneath him, ready to charge the opening given him the instant they touched earth, Akuma felt pain instead of the English soil. Dudley looked up from his resting position on the ground at the brief scream that had come from Akuma. His throw had been true; Akuma was not even visible, having flown into the thickest of the thorn-bearing rosebushes. Dudley had worked for all that he had, including his rose garden. Knowing that the rose stems and branches bore thorns that went through even the highest quality work gloves, Dudley knew that Akuma could not move without being wounded a thousand times more by the indifferent plant.

A sudden flux of Akuma's ki brought Dudley once more to his feet, covering his face to protect it from the flying pieces of flora. Dudley was not sensitive to ki, but the amount that Akuma used to demolish the plant was not possible to miss. Akuma was much changed for the worse for his trip to the rosebush. His gi hung in tatters, rips and holes decorating the plain red garment, each being soaked to maroon with Akuma's blood. Akuma stalked out of the planter, fury covering his features more than ever. Dudley moved forward to meet the approach of Akuma, charging up for another attack, praying that rage had blinded Akuma to his surroundings again. When Akuma froze, looking down at his foot that had just been impaled by a dozen thorns from a stem blasted off the rosebush, Dudley took advantage again.

Dudley threw his weight, his ki and his skill into the hit, calling out the move's namesake this time. "Corkscrew Blow!" Akuma flew parallel to the ground, and into the sister of the plant he had just come out of. Dudley heard a scream of rage and not of pain this time, but still took hope that Akuma had been hurt again. Dudley could see into the rose bush dimly as Akuma stood, cursing the thorns and pain, but this time did not blow the offending plant to bits. Akuma's image brightened with a blue glow to where Dudley could see him clearly, then he was coming out out of the rosebush without disturbing it. As he was teleported through, Dudley whirled with a backhand to where Akuma would probably end his Ashura Senku. 

But Akuma had teleported just out of range of his fists, and caught his wrist. Dudley felt himself being lifted in the air as Akuma attempted to return the throw that had landed him in a rosebush, but managed to plant both his knees in Akuma's back, driving him face first into the ground. His left hand still gripped by Akuma, Dudley drove blow after blow with his right into the back of Akuma's head, where the neck met the skull. If he would have had just one more good burst of ki, Dudley could have finished off Akuma. But he was at the end. Everything he possessed had been spent to get him this far. With nothing but aching and bruised muscle, he held Akuma down and pounded at his head, trying to will the skull to cave in under his fist.

Akuma growled with frustration, then pulled Dudley's hand under him. Dudley screamed in pain as his wrist was snapped by Akuma's strength and leverage. Ripping the injured appendage out of Akuma's grip, Dudley scuttled backwards, cradling his broken wrist with his good hand. He sensed that he was being circled, and looked up in time to receive an enraged Akuma's Messatsu Gou Hado full in the chest.

The reason for Akuma's circling became appearant as Dudley shot through one massive rose bush, then another, getting tangled up in the third. Ribs were broken from the Hado; blood started soaking through what remained of his clothing. Painfully making his way out of the bush to the pathway, he was almost able to ignore the new injuries sustained from getting out of the thorns. Looking down to his body, Dudley noticed that he held the most perfect rose in his good right hand, an early bloom that had started deep in one of the rose bushes, protected by the rest of the plant. _I suppose I have at most ten minutes to live at my current rate of bloodloss. I have had a good life. I reached my goals through hard work, and a little luck too. My only regret is that I will not see the rest bloom._

Feeling Akuma approaching from a ways off, Dudley decided some last words were in order. Reflecting on his life, he composed his thoughts. Looking up, Dudley saw Akuma standing a few yards away, gloating over his victory. "I could complain at the shortness of my life. But no one is guaranteed long life, not even you, Akuma." Drawing a breath, Dudley continued.  "My life may be short, but I lived long enough to know that right comes out right. I will be avenged." Dudley watched the anger in Akuma's eyes reach new heights, then dropped his gaze to the rose he held in his hand. _I will not have my last vision of this earth be one of Akuma._


	3. Different Point of View

The red curtains were gone from the towering windows of Castle de la Paz. Not merely drawn back to let in the light, but gone. Gone, too, were the paintings and sculptures depicting death and blood and suffering. The dining room colors were already changed from the deep burgundy of times past to a hunter green. What remained was the paintings and sculptures depicting great beauty, and the mirrors. The beauteous art remained to remind Vega Antonio de la Paz of what was good and right in the world, and the mirrors were to remind him that he was not perfect. If a scar was the price of sanity, Vega felt that it was worth paying.

Maybe it was just the light flooding into previously darkened halls from a near-perfect day outside, maybe it was the new attitude and cheerfulness of the staff, maybe it was just his perceptions of all these things, but Vega felt good. Even a glass of second-rate white wine in his glass could not ruin his mood. It had taken fifteen minutes for his frantic staff to get a bottle of the stuff, there being no white wine on the premises for nearly a decade.

The removal of the art, the new colors being ordered for the Castle, not even the ordering of a white wine had convinced the staff that Vega was a new man, or at least a different man. No, it was the fact that Vega had not fired the entire staff for not having white wine on the premises. And not beating them for it coming late. And the fact that he had not even become upset that the wine was second rate. So, a staff that stayed on only for the money became cheerful at the prospect of better working conditions, lifting the spirits of their employer even more, which improved the environment even more.

Vega Antonio de la Paz sat in quiet contemplation of the recovery of his sanity, enjoying more and more the lucidity of the thoughts flowing to his mind.His study was now the perfect place to sit and reflect. The new curtains were being made, and two or three weeks still remained for their delivery. The curtain-less windows allowed the sun to flood the room with light, making artificial light unnecessary. Details of the room stood out in perfect clarity to Vega, a clarity he wished his thoughts to attain. _Now was it the scarring of my face that brought me out of psychosis? Or was it Bison's death? Perhaps the damaging of the mask which did have some unknown influence upon me was enough to bring me to a sound mind…Of course, a combination of the three is very possible. Perhaps if I go over it again, a detail that I've missed previously will come to light._

Once again, Vega let his mind drift back to the day of his liberation. He had attempted to attack Sagat, but was ambushed by Cammy. He tried to retaliate, but Cammy unleashed a Reverse Shaft Breaker…

Knowing exactly what had transpired, Vega fell the twelve feet to the floor, making no effort to land on his feet or even soften the landing. Nothing mattered anymore. _Why bother with landing gracefully and ready to fight on and living when there's no reason to anymore? My face, my beautiful face… It's ruined. Marred forever. What now?_ Vega looked from his position on the floor towards Cammy. The ringing in his ears from the blows prevented him from hearing anything, but it was obvious that Sagat was thanking Cammy, surprised but grateful to the beautiful doll. _Yes, so beautiful, in spite of the scar running down her cheek. Maybe even more beautiful for it. Adds beauty of a kind other than physical._

A light shone in Vega's eyes. The blood-red gleam of insanity was no match for the brilliance of revelation shooting through Vega's soul, forcing him to his hands and knees. _A beauty other than physical. Why have I missed that? How? It's so obvious now._ Reaching up with his unclawed hand, Vega removed the mask. Looking into his hand, he saw the instrument that had carefully preserved and protected his splendor. _Bison. Bison made my mask. Bison. Bison gave me this. Bison. Bison kept my mask for me. Did Bison know? Did he create my madness? Or just help it along? Did Bison use the mask to control me? Or did he control my madness? Whose madness was it, mine or his?_

Vega looked over at Sagat and Cammy. They looked back: one weary, one wary. Ignoring them for other matters, Vega looked towards where Bison lay. For one used to death and those dead, it was instantly seen that Bison was dead. Standing to get a better view, Vega continued his inspection of what used to be Bison. His head lay at an unnatural angle, his neck snapped. Insurance to that was the indentation to his temple. A crater the width of Sagat's massive fist or knee or heel showed the lengths Sagat was willing to go to insure Bison's death. Bison's nose was also broken.

_A broken nose, probably shoved into the cranial cavity; Sagat's best attack to do that is a Tiger Knee. A deadly sledgehammer blow to the temple; he could do that with any blow, but both those _and _a broken neck? Unless I miss my guess, a Tiger Genocide was unleashed at full power with the intent to kill. But Bison's Psycho Power is more than a match for even Sagat's ultimate technique. And I know Bison's ki enough to know that he unleashed a Psycho Crusher, and it connected, at least a little… Strange. I can't feel even a residual particle of Bison's ki. He just died; I should be able to feel it bleeding away from his body for hours to come. I'm a killer, a hunter, finding my prey by their ki. But it's gone so completely, like it never existed. Somehow Sagat, or maybe even Cammy somehow got rid of it. Even if they took away all of the Psycho Drive's artificial ki from him, Bison had tremendous reserves of his own. But they did it somehow. They may not know it, they've given me my mind back. How can I repay-_

"TRAITORS!"

The roar broke through Vega's thoughts, annoying him. His thoughts were so clear, so wonderfully clear after a forever of time, and now someone interrupted. The source of the interruption was Balrog, and he was running full-bore at Cammy and Sagat. Balrog was fast, but nowhere near the speed of Vega, so he was late getting to the scene where Sagat and Bison had fought. Vega came to an instant decision as Balrog rushed across the room. Vega knew that Sagat was in no shape to fight a sick kitten, much less Balrog, and Cammy's speed was no match for the sociopath boxer's full strength. _Rarely do debts this large get paid this quick._ Without thinking, Vega put his mask back on as he followed his chosen course of action. 

As Balrog rushed by, Vega grabbed him, tossing into the air him with a burst of ki. Sensing that the boxer had channeled some of his ki to absorbing some of the impending damage, thinking that he would hit the floor, Vega put all of his reserve ki into completing the move. The proper spin was achieved, the proper height reached, so he raised the blades of his claw to complete the Red Impact. Balrog's gravity propelled fall hesitated for an instant as one claw broke through bone, but continued until it was finally stopped by Vega's fist. A high-pitched giggle escaped Vega as he slid the bleeding body of Balrog off his claw to the floor.  _I can't have Sagat be the only one who's killed today! _Vega ripped the mask off, mindless of the strap and the pain from his injured face. 

Vega shook off the images of weeks ago. A shudder of fear at what might have been ripped through him. The mask was definitely a factor in the insanity. After leaving the garage, he had waltzed out of the base as if everything was normal, ignoring the chaos that erupted as the bodies were found and commandeered a Shadaloo flight to Madrid. 

_Does the mask cause insanity? Or was I just trained to act thus-and-so when I had it on, like a horse with bit and bridle? Was there a psychosis-inducing drug inside the mask? _Vega raised a hand, gaining the attention of his head servant. "Oscar, locate for me one Edmund Honda, sumo wrestler. Then arrange for transportation for me to see him."

"At once, sir."

Eighty minutes later, Oscar announced that Edmund Honda, participant in previous fighters' tournaments, was in New Mexico, United States of America. "It is possible to get to that area of the United States very quickly, sir. But-" 

"Excellent work, Oscar! Prepare my things."

"But sir, it requires you to leave for Madrid within twenty minutes. There will be no time to properly pack your luggage."

Vega brushed off his first reaction. Old habits died hard, but a new life he loved more than the old awaited. "No matter. My luggage can follow when it is ready."

"It will also require two layovers, sir. One in New York for an hour and ten minutes, the other in Dallas for almost three full hours."

Vega swallowed his wrath, determined to remain rational. "Make the arrangements, Oscar. I will endure these… petty hardships. And tell my accountant I wish to see him."

"As you wish, sir."

Two minutes later, Vega's accountant stood before him. "How many staff in the household?" Vega asked.

"Sixteen, sir. Five servants and maids, two chefs, two kitchen helps, three gardeners, two administrative assistants, a handyman and myself, sir."

"Hmmmm…" Vega paused, doing some quick calculations. "Give everyone 750 euros each as a bonus, except for yourself, the chefs and Oscar. Give these 1000 euros. Do it at La Casita, where you are to spend no less than 2000 euros on a meal for you all."

"Sir?"

"The upper limit is 5000 euros. And be sure to leave a large gratuity, as well."

"Yes sir!"

Dismissing the accountant, Vega decided that some acts of kindness may be expensive, but they felt so good. _To change my reactions and my habits, I will do an act of kindness for others for every murderous thought, bankrupting myself if necessary._

Oscar announced that the preparations were complete and only awaited Vega. Vega stood to begin the four minute walk from his study to where his limousine waited. As Vega stood, Dudley fell lifeless.

Akuma looked down at the body of Dudley. It was obvious to Akuma that fighting others while holding back had weakened his training. Dudley had fought much harder than expected with his life on the line. Akuma could not believe that such a weak fighter had nearly defeated him. _Perhaps it was a similar lapse that claimed Bison. If I can no longer sense his presence, then he is dead. He was the closest one to matching my power, and yet he is gone. I must continue to raise the level of my training. Perhaps a fight with someone who can sense my coming. If they have more time to prepare, perhaps a better fight will occur._ Finding meditative peace unachievable in the rose garden, Akuma knelt in the lawn. Sending out his ki to find a fighting spirit strong enough to fight him and able to sense him, Akuma found a subject for his hunt in Spain.

"Vega…"


	4. The Slaughter

The Slaughter

Long before Akuma entered Castle de la Paz, he knew it was empty. He still entered it, searching, for he had found that some fighters were able to hide their ki, and thereby escape from him. A fortunate few, however, had evaded him by simple luck. 29,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean, a fortunate Vega sat contemplating. He was thinking about possible language barriers, Edmund Honda's optimism and cheer, and _Why was Honda in the southwestern United States?_ Absorbed with these thoughts, he failed to note Akuma's ki concentrating on him. Akuma changed his plans. With his challenge having avoided him once already, and growing more distant with every moment, Akuma searched out a new target. It wasn't very large, but it was intense, and might provide a challenge.

It didn't. Rose's attacks had been different from every other fighter he had faced, her Soul Sparks burning and eating away at his insides like acid. Worse, her Aura Soul Throw somehow stunned his ki, rendering him unable to launch even the weakest Gou Shoryuken for the last half of the fight. He had even given up his fireball attacks all together when a Messatsu Gou Hado had been reflected back into him from point-blank range. In spite of all this, Akuma had outclassed Rose. His vicious power overwhelmed her defenses, crushed her, killed her. Shattered glass from display cases and broken shelving lay about the floor, almost in mourning for Rose. Akuma watched as her blood covered some of the debris.

Finally, he was able to use his ki again, finally recovered from Rose's attacks. Akuma meditated on the blood, searching again for a challenge. Two possibilities were found in opposite directions from each other. One was pulsing, strong and steady, rhythmic. The other was much larger, but there was something twisted about it, something not right and strange. The sense of an abnormal ki made Akuma hesitate, but the sheer size of the contest available was too great to ignore, and so Akuma headed northeast.

Akuma back flipped over the bludgeon, hearing it pass underneath him. The fight had been fierce, but now he was winning, breaking the brutal stalemate. Zangief had realized who was winning as well, and was resorting to keeping Akuma away with a 12 foot long steel beam, swinging it like a huge bat. The area surrounding Akuma was covered in blood, not all of it his opponent's. Blood pooled in dents on the floor of the steel factory's smelter. Some of the dents were created by the beam, some created by Akuma's body being driven into the floor. The start of the fight had seen Akuma hurling hadokens from range, only to see them defeated by Banishing Flats or dissipated by Double Lariats. Every time he had closed in to unleash devastating combinations, he had found himself in the unforgiving clutches of a brutal grappler. Akuma's ki reserve had rarely been tested this deeply, huge amounts going to absorb the impact from slams and drivers and bombs just to survive. 

Zangief had even tried to hurl Akuma into a pit of molten steel. A grim smile of satisfaction spread across Akuma's face at the memory. His duel with Dudley had taught him to take heed of his surroundings. As before, he had flipped upright, but instead of trying to land, Akuma had flown into his Hurricane Kick, flying over the liquefied metal. Then Zangief had picked up the beam, and Akuma knew what to do. He prepared his ki for two last bursts, ready to end the fight. Hopping back, the wind from the latest swing disturbing his gi, Akuma sprang his trap. Dashing forward, Akuma watched as Zangief brought the I-beam whipping back at him. Zangief knew there was no way Akuma could make it to him in time and put extra effort into crushing the Ansatsuken fighter. Exactly as Akuma had planned. Just before he was decapitated by the monstrous bat, Akuma went into a short teleport. The beam whistled through the images, and Akuma reformed right in front of a defenseless Zangief, his dangerous hands preoccupied. He had tried an Instant Hell Murder/Raging Demon earlier in the fight, only to be taken out of it by a Final Atomic Buster that had deeply hurt Akuma in spite of his outpouring of ki. But this time it was not countered.

The kanji burned into Akuma's back as it always did after he completed the Shun Goku Satsu. Literally translated, the kanji meant '10'. More accurately, it meant 'more than human'. It still burned, but it felt different this time than in times past. Now it felt like proof of an accomplishment, a compliment on rising to a new rank of fighting prowess. Before, it always felt like an indictment against him, the pain accusing Akuma of an unfair fight, using that which others could neither use nor defend against. After he had defeated his master Goutetsu, the weight of the accusation had kept him from using the technique against his brother Gouken. But their defeat had shown him their weakness for locking the technique away. Now, Akuma basked in the warmth of the kanji and in the glory of his victory. Soon, Akuma would start his long journey to the southeast, not possessing enough ki to get him to India, much less enough to get there and then fight. But first, his fallen opponent was worthy of a death poem, unlike so many others. 

_           A flood of darkness_

_                      One more body lies lifeless. _

_                                 The fighter stands tall._

Days later, in India, the pain of yet another burn dragged a hard grunt out of Akuma. He was now hypersensitive to heat. The kanji added its fierce heat to Akuma's scorched body, the pain overcoming the satisfaction of victory. But it wasn't just heat that he felt more. Every sensation on his skin was amplified to painful extremes, so that even the remains of his tattered uniform touching him hurt. Even now, just standing over the body of Dhalsim caused his feet to shoot messages of pure agony to his brain, telling the tale of the Yoga Stream that had severely hampered his speed. Dhalsim had known his best course of action and followed it to perfection: set Akuma on fire again and again, then mercilessly punish the sensitive nerves with stretching limbs. Dhalsim had demonstrated his mastery of keeping his opponent out at his arms' reach and his ability to punish when they closed. Even the trick against Zangief, the teleport to Shun Goku Satsu, had been countered. Dhalsim had allowed him to teleport in close, then blasted Akuma with a Yoga Tempest. Then Akuma had found a pattern in Dhalsim's maddening Warps, and exploited his knowledge with his ultimate technique.

Akuma looked down at the remains of his gi. He frowned, splitting his swollen and blistered lips. He would have to find material for a new gi, the upper half of his present one was almost nonexistent. Where his gi was gone, he could see charred and blistering flesh, some of the burns torn open and bleeding by Dhalsim's attacks. Goutetsu had taught him and Gouken to make and care for their uniforms, but Akuma had always been a better fighter than tailor. Even when he had been a weak fighter known as Gouki, he had never been good at much besides fighting. He had changed his name when he unlocked the Shun Goku Satsu, it seemed to fit his new abilities and powers better.

In some ways, the fight with Zangief had been easier. But whether harder or easier, the end result was the same. Now, he needed a place to rest and heal. Turning east, Akuma left the body of Dhalsim to his widow and now fatherless children. He may have warranted it, but a death poem seemed too bothersome, not worth the trouble. Not even the victory won could take the edge off the torture that his feet felt at each and every step. The kanji burned into his back still, longer and more painfully then ever before, the pain robbing Akuma any satisfaction that he may have had from the fight. Akuma's sole comfort as he left the village was the fact that Dhalsim was dead. 

_The weak have no right to live…_


	5. The Emperor of Muay Thai vs the King of ...

The Emperor of Muay Thai vs. the King of Fists

The warrior grinned as he descended the stone stairs with easy, quick steps. It was going to be a beautiful day. The sky was clear except for a few high clouds that drifted lazily towards the horizon. The morning was still a little cool, but not uncomfortably so. Even the humidity was cooperating. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he looked around as he always did. This was his favorite spot, rain or shine. He was in an ancient miniature coliseum, the open air arena floor sunken 20 feet below the ground. It was circular, about 50 feet in diameter. The walls of the ancient ring had two gaps, one in the north and one in the south, where the stone steps came down to the edge of the arena. The walls were decorated with cryptic inscriptions and hieroglyphics. Perched at regular intervals at the top of the pit were faces of kings and beasts, mute witnesses to centuries of bloodshed and countless duels. Here and there along the wall ambitious vines climbed along the wall, giving the arena a second nature as a hanging garden.

The floor was an ancient demonstration of great skill in stone working. Each stone was jointed to the next, requiring no mortar. The exposed surface of each was flat and even, combining to form a strong surface almost free of slips and missteps. There were three different areas where the foundations of the stone blocks were washed away by a millennia of rains, forming sunken areas. Also marring the perfection of the flooring was an 85 foot tall giant hardwood tree. The tree rendered the southeast corner of the arena unsuitable for combat.

Adon didn't mind the loss of available fighting area, the smaller space was much easier to cover with his Jaguar Tooth, but still large enough to maneuver around. Of course, it wouldn't do to have that high, diving-in kick from the walls be fouled by protruding branches, so potentially obstructing branches had been felled by his signature aerial axe kick, his Jaguar Kick. He was rather proud of how well his Jaguar Kick had removed the branches. He had even left enough of each branch to form another place that he could launch his Jaguar Tooth from. Under the shade of the tree, Adon stretched, preparing for the fight ahead of him. A few jabs and kicks and Adon was ready. _Perhaps Sagat will challenge me for the title this year. I could use a good fight._ He was a little early, but he was the reigning Emperor of Muay Thai, and it was poor form to be late. His opponent was barely a pro, nowhere near a special. But he had won the annual lottery, so Adon was obliged to fight him. And beat him. And then prepare for the next fight. Adon was not as sensitive to ki as hunters were, but somehow he felt a fighting spirit descending the steps on the other side of the tree with no problem. _Well, I thought he wasn't a special. Maybe this will be a decent fight after all._

Walking around the tree to greet his opponent, Adon stopped cold when he saw Akuma stopped at the bottom of the steps, staring at him as his thoughts raced. _No. No! No no no no no… Uh-uh. That's not right. That's not who I'm supposed to fight today. Why me? Why now? Akuma doesn't make social calls, you don't run into him on accident. He shows up, he fights._ Adon went through all that he could remember of what he knew about Akuma, most of it from when he had been trying to find and challenge Akuma. _Maybe he finally heard that I was looking for him, and decided to oblige me. _Adon paused in his thoughts, looked at someone he had forgotten about years ago. _I got over you when Sagat got his fight against Ryu, and was worse off for it. Can I talk him out of it? No one knows if he speaks anything other than Japanese._

Adon's Japanese was poor, but anything was worth a shot. "Akuma… I not look for you for much time. Not fight want you anymore. Not look you, not fight want anymore." Adon paused, waiting to see if his words had any effect. Adon licked his dry lips. "Akuma-"

"Don't. Talk." Akuma's Japanese was flawless, but his voice was rough from lack of use.

_I know what's next._

"Just. Die."

_WHAT!? That's not what he's supposed to say! I know this! I've studied it, witnesses said he said it to four of his opponents, with no variations. It's supposed to be "Just. Fight." Fight. And now he doesn't want a fight, he wants me to die?_

Anger at the injustice overcoming the fear of dying, Adon didn't care if he was understood or not and switched to his native Thai. "You wish me, the Emperor of Muay Thai, to die? Fine! Only one of us leaves here alive. But no matter the outcome, remember this: I did not come to you, you came to me. You have the Murderous Intent, not I. You're the murderer, not I. I, I am the fighter here. The King of Fists? You're no king, just a butcher."

Adon adjusted his headband with both hands while rocking his torso back and forth. Then he looked up and gave a thumbs down to Akuma, a sneer on his face. "Bring it!"

Giving no indication if he understood or cared about Adon's last outburst, Akuma crossed the space between them and quickly started the fight, as was his custom. Time slowed, as always, for Adon at the start of the fight. He watched, fascinated, as Akuma's punch slowly came in. Time resumed normal speed as Adon brought up his arm to parry. _Left wrist to his wrist/push punch outside/pivot on left foot front foot/swing right side of body in. Right forearm smash hit success first! Knocked him back. Advantage! Attack! Quick! Opening! Assault! Hurry!_ Adon stepped forward, smashing his left elbow into Akuma's head. Time slowed again. _He didn't even feel those. I don't think I can knock him out._

Adon had wanted out from Sagat's shadow from the day he decided he was there. When Sagat trained, so did Adon. He made sure he had a totally different style then Sagat, though. When Sagat went for power, Adon looked for speed. Sagat favored his fists and knees, Adon concentrated on his elbows when close and feet everywhere else. Sagat waited for his opponent to come in close, launching fireballs while waiting to counterstrike the incoming attacks. Adon learned to bring the fight to his opponents, flying kicks off walls and dropping kicks over projectiles. Sagat went after knockouts. So did Adon. They were useful. But Adon simply did not have the power to knock all of his opponents out, so he learned a few strategies from a Brazilian variant of kickboxing that did not seek knockouts. Instead, it battered its opposition into broken bones or a bloody submission. When Adon was at the ceremony to be crowned Emperor, Sagat was in a hospital. The doctors worried about Sagat bleeding to death from the bruises covering his body, deep and dangerous. Bruises were not operable, not like veins or arteries that you could pinch off or cauterize. Even blood transfusions would simply add to the bruises if the damage was severe enough.

_If I can't knock him out, then I'll bleed him. I've won that way before._

Akuma stomped, stopping his backwards momentum. Adon continued his twisting momentum, pivoting, bringing his right foot up in a reverse roundhouse. Akuma saw the kick coming and brought up his guard to protect his twice-hit face. Which left his left thigh open to a wrecking ball known as Adon's heel. Ordinary fighters would have been the screaming owners of a newly snapped femur, but Akuma was far from ordinary. So Akuma came at him again, this time with a left, and Adon brought his arm up to parry again when Akuma reveled the feint and grabbed Adon's arm. Slammed to the ground, Adon twisted his head out of the way of Akuma's follow-up stomp. Adon threw his feet up in a double mule kick, pushing off the ground with his hands. Akuma back flipped out of the way and the two fighters faced off. This time Adon skipped in, landing a kick with the outer blade of his foot to Akuma's gut. The first kick of Akuma's retaliating Tatsumaki Zankukyaku ripped Adon's defending arms to the side, and the second hit him up to be kicked further into the air. Adon straightened himself out after the Hurricane Kick only to be sent tumbling by Akuma's Gou Shoryuken. 

Finally landing in an undignified heap at the base of the tree where the fight had started, Adon looked up to see Akuma's Gou Hadoken racing in. Adon had a guess as to what was coming behind the fireball. In a split second, Adon decided that the punishment for being wrong was far less then being right and not ready, so he remained on the ground, allowing the fireball to pass over him. Following the fireball was Akuma, glowing with the power of the Raging Demon. If Adon had gotten up and blocked the fireball, he would have been pushed back into the tree, helpless, and just another victim of the Evil Intent. But from his position on the ground he was able to sweep Akuma's feet out from underneath him. Even as Akuma succumbed to the power of gravity, Adon blurred up and away. From the tree, he launched his Jaguar Tooth almost straight down, streaking towards the ground faster than gravity could pull. Adon's foot was a hammer and the floor was his anvil. Akuma was too quick though, and Adon's heel pulverized a stone block instead of Akuma's head. 

Adon stepped out of the new hole in the floor and faced the now vertical Akuma. Akuma attacked again, but Adon retreated around the arena, kicking as he went. Adon hit every muscle open to him: forearms, biceps, abdomen, thighs. When Akuma changed his guard to protect his body, Adon tried to break Akuma's neck. Akuma moved too quick for Adon to connect with the neck, but he landed enough blows to the head to make Akuma's ears and nose bleed. Akuma put his guard back up high, and Adon went back to trying to break Akuma's legs. Frustrated, Akuma hopped backwards out of kicking range and launched a fireball. Just as it left his hands, Adon dropped out the air with a Jaguar Kick. Akuma jerked his head to the side, keeping his skull intact, but the blow snapped his right collarbone and blasted down to pound his right thigh as well. Inhumanly, Akuma shrugged off the pain, hitting Adon with a right hook, bringing the elbow back across his face, and stepped through with a left that sent Adon reeling. Even as he stumbled back, Adon still connected with a hook kick to Akuma's throbbing right thigh. 

Akuma jumped after him, and Adon tried to intercept with a Rising Jaguar, his one ki-aided attack that used his knees. The aerial double Gou Hadoken surprised Adon, but he still landed on his feet, staggering until Akuma's own diving kick knocked him back and down. There was a lull as Adon got back up, and then the two fighters circled each other, Akuma staying just out of the range Adon's kicks. Adon waited until his back was to the closest wall, then he went into another Jaguar Tooth, testing Akuma's power with a broken collarbone. Akuma countered with a short left-handed Gou Shoryuken, which told Adon that a broken collarbone would only shut down Akuma if there was another broken collarbone. It also told Adon that Akuma hit just as hard with his left as with his right. Adon's kick still connected, driving Akuma down while Adon flew back up in the air. A fireball delayed Adon's fall, and propelled him into the wall, knocking the air out of him for a second. 

Slowly standing, no attack coming in, Adon took stock of the fight so far. He had given much more than he had taken, but Akuma was still going strong. Adon's attacks were having an effect, though. Akuma hadn't followed up the last two times Adon had been knocked down. But Adon had been hurt as well. _Time to open up the throttle on damage._

Once again, Adon turned into a blur flying away from Akuma, coming off the wall in yet another Jaguar Tooth. This time, however, Akuma flew into a fully powered Gou Shoryuken. Adon smiled as he landed several feet in front of where Akuma had been. He had not been aiming to hit Akuma, but had been aiming to get Akuma off the ground. Adon launched his best Jaguar Kick, hitting Akuma into perfect position for Adon's Jaguar Revolver. The Revolver, a huge series of aerial axe kicks, was Adon's most destructive attack, and it shot Akuma across the fighting ground and into the wall at the opposite side of arena. It worked perfectly. Now to come up with something else. Adon laughed as he crossed to where Akuma waited for Adon to close. This suited Adon just fine, he preferred being on the offensive.

Adon closed, testing Akuma with feints and light kicks, then rushed in. Instinctively, Akuma raised his guard, allowing Adon to batter Akuma's sore muscles again. Akuma shot forward, trying to break the barrage, and Adon went into his Jaguar Variable Assault. Elbow after elbow banged into Akuma until a fist shot him up to receive a Rising Jaguar to finish the Assault. Recovering after such a beating seemed tough, but Adon's mind screamed _Impossible!_ when Akuma recovered, grabbed him at the peak of the Rising Jaguar, and threw him into the wall. The anger rose again in Adon, allowing him to recover enough to push off the wall in an impromptu Jaguar Tooth. His kick slammed Akuma to the ground, Adon dropping on top of him. Adon rained hammer fists and elbows down, bouncing Akuma's head off the ground until both his fists were blocked at once, forcing Adon to pause. The instant he did, Akuma teleported out from under him. 

Anger turning to white hot rage that Akuma had escaped the death due him, Adon raced after the blue images. Akuma's teleport stopped in front of the massive tree, but when he turned and saw Adon racing in on him, he teleported again. Adon whirled around, faced Akuma again. Akuma went into a Hurricane Kick, but was far enough away that Adon had room and time enough to jump over the whirling kicks. Adon leapt, ready to intercept Akuma when Akuma landed from the short Tatsumaki Zankukyaku. _No! Fell for my own trick!_ Akuma's Messatsu Gou Shoryu hurt Adon badly, but not as badly as he had anticipated. _ Looks like my plan's working!_

Adon picked himself up, only to be confronted with an all out offensive from Akuma. He successfully blocked everything that was coming in, but could not find an opening to get out of the onslaught, slowly being forced backwards towards the tree. Akuma was trying it all, punches, kicks, elbows, knees, fireballs too close to be jumped over or avoided, everything. Adon hated being on the defensive, but he knew that even Akuma couldn't keep such an effort up forever, and so he continued to give ground. Something grabbed Adon's foot as he stepped back, throwing him off balance. Looking down, he saw his foot wedged sideways in a hole in the floor. Time slowed, and for once, stopped. _Where did that hole come from? Right. When I tried to crush Akuma with that Jaguar Tooth after he tried-_ Looking up, Adon saw the start of the Shun Goku Satsu. 

_This is gonna hurt. Let's make it worth it._  

The Instant Hell Murder was the most damaging offensive move ever, but it had no defense. Adon put everything he had into the roundhouse kick. Perfect timing, all his ki, every bit of his speed struck Akuma in the very center of his chest. Akuma flew back with all the grace of a rag doll shot from a cannon, bouncing off the corner of the wall where the steps came down. Adon's vision went dim from the pain of the bones in his broken ankle grinding together as he tried to free his foot, but he stayed upright, distracting himself by watching as Akuma got to his feet, one slow movement at a time. Adon screamed as he finally got his foot free of the hole, this time completely passing out from the pain. The impact from hitting the ground brought him back out of the blackness. 

Adon was used to pain. Adon had trained by slamming his shins into steel poles, his sparring partner for years had been Sagat, and he knew that he had never felt this much pain before. Hobbling over to the tree to lean, keeping his injured foot in the air, Adon looked over at Akuma. In spite of the pain, Adon smiled. Someone else was hurting at least as bad as he was, making the pain Adon felt have purpose, making it bearable. Akuma was bent over at the waist in obvious pain. The usual angry sneer was gone. The teeth were not bared in rage. His mouth hung open, gasping for air, grunting in pain every time his lungs stretched his injured chest. His arms crossed over his chest, Akuma looked like he was suffering from being cut in two, and was trying to keep himself from falling into pieces. He did not grip himself tightly though. _Little wonder. I think that Zangief, E. Honda and Birdie put together would have been killed by that kick. Akuma can't be tougher than those three put together. Yeah, should be deadly, that hard, right over the heart. Maybe he's dying! Maybe he's dying… I'd let Sagat be Emperor no problem, I'll be happy to be known as the man who killed Akuma._

Then the Satsu no Hadou rose up in power. For an instant, Akuma went nearly completely black, very little light escaping to let Adon see what was happening to Akuma. But Adon did see everything. Akuma's teeth lengthened, sharpened into wicked spikes, his eyes glowed an evil red, and a continuous wave of intense heat came from him, washing over Adon. Just as quick as it came, the darkness left with the heat, leaving Adon cold and Akuma standing. Adon couldn't believe it. Akuma looked like he was pain free.

Adon just watched as Akuma walked up to him, stopping so close that Adon could feel his breath. 

In Thai, Akuma said, "I. Will. Enjoy. This."

Adon couldn't help himself. He had just fought the fight of his life, would have won it, would have killed Akuma if his ankle wasn't broke. _And now, I'm going to die instead of him._

"Personally, Akuma, I would not enjoy this." Adon's ankle may have been broke, but there was nothing wrong with his knee. So he drove it into Akuma's groin, instantly following it up with a punch that crushed Akuma's larynx. Akuma staggered backwards gagging, choking. Adon laughed at his last attack, laughing inspite of the heat he felt from the Satsu no Hadou as it came back, staying this time. Akuma straightened, ran back to Adon and kicked his broken ankle. Adon passed out, his own personal blackness taking him away before the Shun Goku Satsu's darkness did.


	6. Fight and Flight

Fight and Flight

Yun hopped the four foot gap between the buildings. He looked back, visually searching for the person who had been hunting him and his younger brother for the past half hour. He didn't see anyone, he rarely had in the last twenty minutes, but he could feel the ki somewhere close. When he had seen his pursuer, it was always an attack that he saw coming. And Yun had merely evaded, using his intimate knowledge of Hong Kong to frustrate the attacker. It was not cowardice that made Yun not face his attacker. No, it was the fact that he and his brother had been first confronted at The People's Recreation Center, a place considered by all the local gangs as off limits due to the strong government presence. The PRC was a great place to relax, shop, check out the girls, and also a great place for a fight. But the officials in charge of the PRC frowned on fighting, in spite of the abundance of areas that begged for a good brawl. The People's Recreation Center had been closed for nearly three months for repairs after the last time the twin brothers visited. They were just back from being banned for participating in, and finishing, the fight that had closed the Center.

After finally being allowed back after over a year, Yun and Yang had no wish to be banned again. So Yun and Yang had lost the attacker at the huge courtyard. With the time they bought, Yun had distracted the female security detail in charge of the video tapes while Yang stole the video tapes. A queasy stomach came and went with the shudder that passed over Yun. Flirting with someone he had no desire to be with was an unmatched horror for Yun. Pushing the memory of The People's Army Officer Wuding behind him, Yun thought about the present situation. He had sent his twin to destroy the tape, then was to meet him here, at a nearby part of town. Here they would deal with the hunter. He had to be a hunter, he had found them way too quickly in the crowds as they left the PRC. 

Yun and Yang were the protectors of their little part of Hong Kong. They kept most of the Chinese mafia's and local gangs' thugs and lowlifes out of their area by asking. After winning the first three or four dozen fights, asking usually worked. The protection they gave from the crime and extortion rings let the families and businesses in the area flourish, making the area very desirable for developers and people looking for places to live. This also made them the _de facto_ leaders of about three square miles packed with alleys, roads, warehouses, factories, houses, apartments and people, thousands of people. Being teenagers and leaders at the same time forced them to continually ask their sensei grandfather for advice and direction. For Yun, it was difficult to keep a straight face, so Yang was slowly becoming the spokesman of the twins, at least when dealing with the community. That made both the Twin Dragons very uncomfortable, but for the sake of their grandfather, themselves, and those that relied on them for help, they suffered quietly. They were still equals in private at least.

Being leaders also made them targets from time to time. Gangs hungry for territory and money sent assassins after Yun and Yang, trying to replace the leadership of the neighborhood. The assassins never completed their jobs, never collected their money, never were seen again. Perhaps this one was from a gang that had not learned yet. Yun stamped his foot, impatient for Yang and the unknown invader to show up. Movement caught the corner of his eye, but he did not react. Not telling people what he was really thinking was hard, but not warning an enemy of a potential ambush was easy. What had attracted his attention was his brother Yang's blue shirt ducking around a corner at the edge of the crowded buildings. From where and how quickly he was heading up, Yun knew that the attacker had been spotted by Yang, and was in between Yun and Yang, heading for Yun. So, Yun would distract the fighter and Yang would administer the beat down. 

Having spent the majority of his life within 50 feet of his brother, Yun knew that Yang was a bit late for just getting rid of the video tapes, and probably had acquired a weapon of some sort from The People's Vehicle Repair Shop or The People's Machine Tool Plant. _For 'The People' owning everything under the glorious banner of Communism, we, and especially I, have jack to show for it._ Yun looked down at his still clean and near-perfect shoes, wishing that they were newer than three months old. _There's a new crease- Never mind, incoming._ Yun continued to look down, watching as the shadow flew towards him from his right, a foot coming out of the mass of shadow.

Yun sidestepped, kicking up at the crotch of whoever was delivering the flying sidekick. Akuma destroyed the evaporative cooler Yun had been leaning on with his forward foot, blocking the counterattack with his other foot. _That's going to be a problem for someone. But it's not our territory, so it's not our problem. _Yun quickly circled away from the leading foot, forcing the attacker to face him with his weaker side. Or at least the side that he hadn't chosen to ambush with. Without a yell or pause, the assault came again, hard. Yun dodged and retreated, finally getting the back of his attacker to where Yang should be showing up in about four seconds. A telegraphed kick aimed for his head came before the time was up, and Yun slammed the bottom of his fist against the arch of the foot, attempting to cripple his attacker. It would be good to take one out before Yang got here. But no such luck. The attacker merely continued trying to hit Yun. 

Yang came flying in from behind him. And somehow Akuma knew. _Very impressive senses, hunter._ Yun had made sure that shadows would not give his brother away as they had his attacker. The roundhouse Akuma sent out would have taken out any attack coming from Yang; however, Yang wasn't directly attacking the hunter. As he came down, Yang attempted to skewer Akuma's head with the steel pipe he held. Akuma twisted as he kicked, and the pipe snagged his gi instead, pulling the fighter backwards to meet the rising kick of Yun. Yun's attack should have decapitated him, but the hunter shot after Yun, leaving the ground and the shirt of his gi behind. Yun braced himself for the attack. The Gou Shoryuken hammered against his guard, shooting him up and back.

Dropping the pipe and gi, Yang watched the attack, preparing to unleash upon a vulnerable Akuma when he noticed that the attack had shot his brother past the edge of the roof of the apartment buildings towards the open street. "NOOOO!" Adrenaline lacing the blood roaring in his ears, Yang attacked, overwhelming Akuma. Strange blue images followed his attacks, keeping Akuma off balance. Realizing they were powered by his ki, Yang kept attacking, swirling around Akuma until he had only enough ki to unleash a Byakko Soushouda. The pause necessary to set up for it allowed Akuma to attack. Akuma charged forward as Yang stomped. Ducking his head inside Akuma's blow, Yang watched as the double palm strike landed square in Akuma's chest, shooting him backwards to crunch into the wall encompassing the roof.

Running over to where Yun had been hit, Yang looked over the edge of wall, nearly head-butting his brother as he pulled himself up the wall. Parrying the deadly reactionary nerve strikes from Yun with one hand, Yang grabbed his twin's shirt with the other and dragged him over the wall.

"Yun! …Well?"

"Well what?"

"How?"

"Ah, ain't no thang, Yang. You worry like an old woman."

"Don't make me finish what he started. How?"

"You couldn't beat me if I had both hands chopped off. But, a clothes line made of cable, very nice." Yun pointed at his gut where his shirt was now ripped from side to side, then held up his hands, the ungloved fingers bloody and torn.

"Nearly did get both your hands chopped off. Want to watch our friend die?"

The twins glanced over to where Akuma was trying to stand, his twitching limbs reacting the nerve strikes.

"Nah. Which finishing hit did you use?"

"Byakko Soushouda."

"Get any deadly nerve strikes in?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"All of them."

Yun snorted. "Right. Which one?"

"I told you, all of them. Look."

Yun looked over at Akuma's quivering body. He could see the marks in all the right places on Akuma's bare torso. Even the rare spinal strikes were marked by harsh red welts. There were dozens of marks overlapping each of the vulnerable points on Akuma's body, so many just on Akuma's neck that it was easier to find an untouched area.

_That's overkill if I ever saw it. _"How did you hit him that many times? I wasn't over the edge that long, was I? Or did he ask you to give it your best shot or something?"

"N-no… I just wanted… saw you…"

Yun stayed quiet, waiting, watching as the adrenaline high wore off, letting the intense emotions come from his usually quiet brother. _Good thing he's practiced at controlling his emotions. I'd go insane if anything happened to him._ The tears that welled up in Yang's eyes were rare, but not an object of scorn. The brothers were able to be completely vulnerable with each other, completely trusting each other.  
Yang took several steadying breaths. "I attacked as he came down from hitting you, and there were these dark blue streaks, from ki, I think. They hit where I did, let me go off on him, knocked him away with a double palm stomp, ran out of ki…"

"Out? All the way out? You mean low, right?"

A guttural sound came from Akuma, causing both brothers to look over. Akuma's body heaved, blood and bile spewing out of his mouth.

"Yeah, all the way out. Took long enough for the puking to start. He is really tough."

A special electronic chirp from Yang's pocket, freezing both the teenagers. Yang tossed the phone to Yun, saying "Your turn, Yun, I answered the last three times he called!"

Yun caught the phone and turned it on. "This is Yun, Grandfather… Akuma? Here in town? Ok, we will be home right after we finish some business… Just an attacker, probably from a gang that has not learned yet… Well, he is a special… No, his hair is white, Grandfather, not red… The only attack I have seen was a rising punch… Grandfather, it could not be Akuma. Yang took him out by himself… Nerve strikes, many of them… He had some blue ki images attacking with him, or something like that. Ran out of ki doing it too."

Yang was half listening to the conversation, more concerned with the man who should already be dead but was not yet dying. If that was Akuma he had taken down, it was a pretty weak Akuma. _It would be nice to be known as the one that took him down. But how could he survive Grandfather's Shitenshu and not me? Can't be Akuma, no way. But it would be nice…Whoever it is, he's taking a long time to die. Maybe it is Akuma._

"Hey, Yang! Grandfather says that you performed the Sei-ei Enbu, the Phantom Point Waltz, without knowing it or being taught it. You have to teach me it now, no fair knowing moves that I don't. …Sorry, Grandfather. …No, Grandfather, his gi is not red or black. It is orange. …I am looking at it right now. …Because he lost his shirt in an ambush we set, Grandfather." Yun picked up the shirt that had been ripped from Akuma's back. "Yes, pretty bad stitching on the gi. More like a sack with holes in it then a gi. A drunk and blind monkey could do better. …Yes, he is a hunter. He tracked me without seeing me, Yang followed with an ambush, I got knocked out of the fight by a rising punch, Yang took him out with the Sei-ei Enbu. …No, the ambush did not seem to affect him. …A lot of strikes. …Dozens. …Every point on his upper body at least… Maybe two or three minutes. …No, he is not dead yet. …Yes. …Yes, right away, Grandfather."

Yun pocketed the phone and tucked the orange gi in his belt. Turning towards Yang, he held up his hands like he was searching for heat coming from him. After a moment he folded his arms into his chest and exhaled. "Ok, Yang, you are out of ki, and I'm hiding mine. Don't use your ki recovery techniques, Grandfather says we gotta hide our ki from whoever this is. He's convinced it's Akuma, so let's go."

As the brothers ran, Yun told Yang that they were to meet their Grandfather at the airport with three tickets for a flight to Tokyo within the hour, bribing if necessary. The SARS concern was making travel more difficult, and that made speed expensive oftentimes. But Grandfather was to be obeyed in everything. He was their Grandfather, their only family that they knew of besides each other. Across town, traveling to the airport, the boys' Grandfather made two phone calls, one to an old friend in business in Japan, one to an old friend in the government of China. 

"Hello, Kanzuki-sama. This is Gen…"

"Hello, Chunli. This is Gen…"


	7. Fear Naught

Fear Naught

Ibuki dropped from the fire escape to the alley below. One more boringly easy mission accomplished. _'Locate So-and-so. Report.' Like a thousand times before. It's been almost a month since I've had a real assignment. People wouldn't think ninjas were so great if they knew how boring most of our missions are._ Nobody wanted assassinations anymore, choosing to kill, instead, financially. _Damn lawyers suing everything they can, taking our business. Not that they ever gave me an assassination to do._ Jobs were losing the danger element, and with it, the excitement. A once despised task, theft, was the most exciting job anymore. Rare art, family wills that didn't go in the client's favor, locked criminal and medical records, and other personal stuff. Most jobs usually were childishly simple things like finding where someone was hiding, like tonight's mission was. Of course, three months ago the entire clan had been out in Sapporo looking for a psycho murderer the police wanted caught quietly. Ibuki hadn't been one of the ones that caught him, but at least it had been something important and exciting, unlike tonight's mission. But even then they had the government and business' support.

Stifling a yawn, Ibuki let her mind wander to choices for the night's meal. Whatever it was, it'd be followed by ice cream. She was intuitively slipping to the darkest part of the alley before she consciously knew why. A kunoichi, female ninja, she knew how to hide so that a person looking straight at her wouldn't see her. Fading into the shadows, only another extremely well-trained shinobi or very bright searchlight could discover her. But something wasn't right. Here she was in among her best allies, the friendly shadows. Shadows hiding her, guarding her, shielding her from the prying eyes of those who would harm her, and still she was uneasy. The night and darkness seemed to turn traitor, no longer hiding her, but hiding danger from her. Ibuki blinked twice, a violent show of emotion for her when she was faded.

The most intense feeling of grave peril gripped Ibuki. Part of it was that hiding felt so completely futile. Danger was not unknown to her, but never had such a feeling of on-rushing catastrophe. She knew she could take on anyone, anything, and come out on top. Any dozen of her fellow shinobi couldn't overpower her, including the clan's leaders and instructors. So why was she… afraid? Something wanted to kill her, but still, she shouldn't be overwhelmed with fear.

Enjou had taught her over and over, "A single shinobi or kunoichi can decimate armies, assassinate the untouchable, change the very destiny of a nation. As ninja, we rule the night!" It was the night. And Ibuki was kunoichi, an elite kunoichi at that. The best of her clan, and of all other clans, without doubt.

She looked at the alley. It was narrow and long, no room for side to side dodging, plenty for going forward and back freely. It would do fine for a showdown. Ibuki tried to step out to the middle of the alley, a challenge for anyone who dared. But she could not move her feet. Instinct repressed intellect. Her heart hammered. Ibuki's life had been full of danger and tension. In the worst situations she calmly, almost coolly, took loss, danger, tragedy, failure; never once flinched from anything. This time, something uncharacteristic happened. Ibuki lost control. For the first time in her life, she panicked. Fear broke in and touched a deep primal nerve that had never been disturbed before.

Ibuki exploded away from the wall, running. She didn't know why she should be so afraid at whatever was in the night. At first, she kept her eyes in front of her to keep from running into the debris of the alleys, even though she wanted to know what was causing such an instinctive fear. As she ran, the panic grew instead of shrinking until she no longer wanted to look back, fearful of what she would see. Cold sweat and goose bumps flourished all over her body, belying the warmth her running was generating. She knew that her reaction was irrational, a child's fear and superstition and imagination. But the mature, refined Ibuki had lost control to base instinct. And instinct was rough, forcing her to run, run, don't think, just run.

Her mind was occupying itself with detached observations, trying to gain a foothold and regain control, but instinct was still driving her faster and faster, until her legs burned and ached and her breath came in gasps, and still she ran. Still, her mind would not shut off. Buildings, streets, signs, vehicles, trash all mixed to one long blur as Ibuki ran, her mind refused to focus on her surroundings, but was instead absorbed with introspection. She was in superb shape, well within her own high standards of conditioning. Her instructors encouraged her to join the school sport teams every week. Track and field, swimming, gymnastics, anything, everything. Now she was glad of the strict physical training she put herself through. It was keeping her alive, she was sure. _Has Osaka turned into a ghost town?_ A large city, she should have seen someone by now, even if it was 2 am in the back alleys of the bad part of town. Well, especially if it was 2 am in the back alleys of the bad part of town. Not that it would matter or anything. If it could do this to her without even being seen, then no normal person could help her. 

She noticed that she was running in the general direction of her clan's Osaka headquarters. Not running straight there, lest she give away her true goal, but close enough that a well-timed dash could get her to safety without her pursuer knowing that she had turned. And just like that, her rational mind was back in charge. Still Ibuki ran, her understanding agreeing with her instinct, but she knew that she would have to rest. Pacing herself, she would have been able to run all the way there, but the three miles she had just sprinted shortened her range greatly. _Got to keep running. Get distance. _Remembering the layout of the city, Ibuki turned and ran a few blocks out of her way to a literal maze of alleys, dead ends, fences, abandoned buildings and cul-de-sacs. _Got to keep running. _Ibuki ran into the heart of the maze and explored, going up and down the alleys, her mind remembering potential escape routes and dead ends.

Her heart felt like it was twice as big as it should be, making it that much harder to breathe. _Keep running. _Calf and thigh muscles threatening to knot, her heart thudding hard against her ribs, heat radiating from every part of her body. _If it can't find me any other way, it could just follow my heartbeats like sonar._ _…Ok, do something about it._ Ibuki paused, resting against a wall. Between her panting breaths, she heard the pursuit coming. Deep breath. Hold it. Listen. A faint rustle, the sound amplified and concentrated by the tall buildings surrounding her. Something moving in the wind of something else's passage._ Newspapers. _It was coming, and fast. _Saw those in… Wei Lui Lane. _Very fast. Ibuki leapt, vaulted over the fire escape guard rail above her and snaked through a half open window. Through the building, out the other side, down two streets, over a fence and over one more. And still she felt it coming. But it took the long way around, not directly through the building, giving Ibuki extra seconds to use.

Her mind raced, putting solutions together, discarding them, figuring, wondering, finding. It couldn't be following her by scent, sight, or sound, so it wasn't animal/monster. _There's some good news._ It made newspapers rustle as it moved, so it was made of flesh and bone. _Not a spirit. I can deal with that. Not an animal or monster, not a spirit, don't think it's a machine, has to be human._ There wasn't a tracer made that Ibuki couldn't detect, so the person couldn't be tracking her that way. No helicopters had been around for hours, and no ground vehicle could have followed her, so the person wasn't being guided by infrared or heat. _A human, tracking without technology or the five senses, has to be following ki. A ki-sensing person. After me._ The fear, once discovered, took flight. In its place slipped years of training. 

Reaching into the holes in her uniform at her hips, Ibuki pulled out a throwing knife from among its clones in the sheaths strapped to her thighs. It was covered in ki, then dropped into shadows. Ki signatures lasted a lot longer on a solid knife then on the purely ki kunai she usually threw. _Bare hooks and visible nets catch no prey._ The bait-knife was in an amateur's hiding spot, a very dark place, but with no extra escape routes. That also meant only one way out of the ambush she was setting.

Taking the high road, Ibuki faded into the shadows and cloaked her ki. She was now truly invisible to whoever was coming. From the fire escape nearest the knife, Ibuki looked into the trap she had set. The light from an almost full moon trickled down, painting the ground in a weak, pale blue light. The area was roughly square, surrounded by eight buildings, a grid with a hole in the middle. Three of the alleys were dead ends, two looped around a building to connect to each other, the rest reached out into the city. Comfortable with her position, Ibuki slipped six throwing knives in her hands, a barrage of honed steel waiting to be unleashed.

Ibuki's physical fitness had rejuvenated her, the weariness gone. Her muscles were merely warmed up and loosened where they had been on the verge of collapse. Crouched high above the bait-knife, all of her favorite aches humming in tune to the endorphin rush that the physically lazy never knew, Ibuki was ready. She didn't have long to wait. From the alley opposite the knife, a shadow moved. It paused, not entering the lot. _Expecting a ninja in the open or something? Can't pinpoint the knife? No, not that. Tracks ki too well. Cautious? No, chased me far too fast for that._ Finally, the shadow moved and materialized into human shape as it crossed to where the knife was. _Barefooted, gi, a martial artist. Sucker. A samurai's topknot. What guy wears a ponytail, much less a ponytail on the top of his head? No, there's something else, there's something I'm missing here._ But the prey was in place, back turned to her, attention diverted, was about to discover the ruse, so Ibuki sprang.

Six knives flew, four aiming for the target, two slightly off just in case the target discovered the trap too quickly. Then it hit her. _The beads. He's wearing beads. A barefooted martial artist with topknot, wearing beads. That's Akuma I'm trying to kill._ Proof came as Akuma, for it was Akuma, saw the knife, knew he'd been tricked, and came out of the trap with a Gou Shoryuken. The move wasn't coming for her, but her knives were deflected by the ki of the move, and Ibuki unleashed an attack that would hit. Her Kasumi Suzaku, a furious barrage of ki kunai, cut and sliced through Akuma. Landing, she turned and ran away before Akuma regained his feet. Ibuki's clan had no stupid ninja.

But they did have seem to have a kunoichi who made stupid mistakes. Half a dozen steps into the alley, Ibuki realized she was running into one of the alleys that turned into a dead end. Still she ran, scattering a dozen small metal objects behind her. The caltrops were nothing but four spikes, designed so that no matter how they dropped, one was always in the air, ready to cripple whatever stepped on them. Hearing Akuma reach the alley's entrance, Ibuki skidded to a stop, and turned to race back. She froze, letting her eyes go wide, as if in fear, and it wasn't that hard. Encouraged by this display, Akuma raced in, and had his feet impaled multiple times. To Ibuki's very real shock, he kept running. Hopping back to gain time, Ibuki watched Akuma make the rookie mistake of balling his fists to attack, and capitalized on the telegraphed move. Sliding forward on her knees with her Kasumi Gake, catching Akuma off guard, snaking up to his shoulder blades the instant she impacted his bleeding feet.

The torque of Ibuki snapping Akuma's neck lifted both of them into the air. Ibuki tugged her face mask down, staring in disbelief at how easy she had won. "I must go, dishonorable one. Rest in… hell." Ibuki put her mask back up, turned, and walked for the entrance to the alley. Then she felt the heat flowing over her, as if hell had come to claim Akuma. Whirling, Ibuki stared in incredulity at a standing Akuma. The only thing she could do was watch the glowing eyes, red and malevolent, slowly rotate from looking down between his shoulder blades to forward, the vertebrae slipping back into place. The light from his eyes faded with the heat, and Ibuki could see the Ansatsuken fighter in the moonlight once more. Akuma charged, hammered two relentless hits through Ibuki's defenses, finally knocking her away with a Gou Hadoken. Ibuki stood as quickly as she could, knowing that her defense couldn't stop Akuma. Akuma rushed in again, and Ibuki countered with a sweep, knocking Akuma into the air long enough to kick him away.

Akuma screamed as he got up in the entrance to the alley, frustrated and raging. Ibuki knew that she couldn't beat Akuma in this fight, especially since killing him didn't work. Running away didn't work too well either, just like hiding didn't._ So now what?_ Akuma charged again, and Ibuki was sent sprawling by Akuma's attack. He failed to follow up, though, too preoccupied with pulling a ki-enhanced knife from between his ribs. The knife, bright blue with ki, slipped from between his fingers to land with a tiny _clink_ on the ground. Ibuki stood, punch-drunk from the last hit she had taken, and staggered towards Akuma. Akuma's sneer slowly melted away, and his eyes closed. His head drooped forward, and he hit his knees, then fell face first into the dirt, a grotesque parody of a bow. Too dizzy, Ibuki was forced to stop her advance and hold still, waiting for the cobwebs to clear.

And like before, the heat came, and Akuma darkened again. As he rose to his feet, Ibuki ran forward as the glow from his eyes diminished. When she was close enough, Ibuki dashed forward, passing right through Akuma. Akuma whirled as she reappeared, striking for her vulnerable neck. Ibuki dashed again, this time a backwards hop, reappearing behind Akuma. Committed to the attack, Akuma could only scream at being tricked as Ibuki unleashed her Yoroi Doshi. Grabbing his topknot, Ibuki yanked Akuma's head backwards, focusing the total energy of the strike to the back of his head. The pure energy of the blast shot out Akuma's eyes, nose, ears and mouth as he flew face-first to impact the brick building in front of him. Akuma stuck in the wall, held up by his head, his feet dangling. 

The Yoroi Doshi hadn't decapitated him like Ibuki had hoped, but the small sword she pulled out would. But Akuma went dim again, but not nearly as dark as before, and no heat was perceivable. Ever careful, Ibuki held the blade in a defensive stance as he dropped ungracefully out of the wall. His arms hung limp, the shoulders slumped, his mouth slack. Blood flowed freely from his ears and nose, running down his neck and dripping from his jaw. The eyes were glowing, but this time it was with the white energy of the Lightning Strike. Then his hands started to twitch, and the eyes gradually reddened. Ibuki charged, prepared just in case he was playing possum, but Akuma teleported away, trailing dull purple images.

Ibuki concentrated on the leaving ki signatures, hers and his, aided by being able to focus on the direction the streak went. Within seconds, it was too far for her to feel. Ibuki sighed, glad it was over. She cleaned up, picking up all of her knives and what caltrops she could find. Walking over to the hole in the wall, Ibuki looked at the bloodstained blocks, then noticed a broken bead necklace amid the rubble. Ibuki picked it up and crouched in a corner to inspect her trophy. By the light of a glowing knife, Ibuki pulled several small strands from the necklace. Some were a light red, and a few were completely white. Realizing they were hair, Ibuki paused, thinking that all stories and descriptions had Akuma with red hair, not white or graying.

Ibuki stood, stretched, and sighed. She was probably going to be late to report, but for once she had a viable justification. It hadn't been as bad as she had thought it should be, with all the stories she'd heard about Akuma. He seemed slow and sloppy, actually, falling for all her tricks. He still hit hard, but he just didn't seem to fight that well. Maybe the prospect of dying inspired all those stories from the survivors and witnesses. Then the relief of being alive and surviving mixed with the remembrance of her fear, and Ibuki nearly threw up. The tension bled away with the minutes, and Ibuki really was late to report, but what was extra duties and a lecture after tonight? Ibuki slipped the necklace into her belt and faded into the night, bound for home.


	8. Motives

**Motives**

Chunli hung up the phone with a sigh. She was out of the fight world, but she hadn't told anyone. _I was hoping that they'd just forget me. If people find out, they'll be pestering me with questions for years to come._ With Bison dead for over a month, she had no need to be involved with the fighters or their tournaments. Even the martial arts lessons she was giving on the weekends was a burden now. No new students were being accepted, and no current lessons would be renewed. Her spiked wrist guards and that ridiculous acrobat costume were in storage, waiting to be sold or thrown away. The quicker the fighters forgot about her, the better. And now Gen was dragging her back into the fighters' sphere. The Chinese man was old, but his mind was as sharp as a frying pan, and twice as dense. Well, he wasn't that bad, but he definitely wasn't all there. _Too bad Alzheimer's isn't fatal. Why did I have to take lessons from him?_ _Two weeks of schooling six years ago, and now it's like we're lifetime friends or something._ A senile old man's pleadings for her to become heroine and be responsible for people she didn't even want to know anymore had a way of disturbing Chunli's day. As a civilian security advisor to the police and army, which were almost the same thing, she had other things to take up her time.

Chances for more riots from the whole SARS uproar was fading fast, no famines or real economic downturns on the radar to cause upheaval. The usual things were there, of course. The United States was attempting to control the entire world, North Korea was taking a crack at starting thermonuclear world war, and the upstart province that called itself Taiwan was still not back with the country, but these were predictable and could be postponed and delayed and were ultimately someone else's headache.

Someone else's problem, just like the burden Gen had given to her. Akuma wasn't her problem, she was out of the fighting scene, and Gen needed to learn that. She was in Beijing, not Hong Kong. What did he expect her to do? _I'll just drop everything, hunt down Akuma, and say 'Bad boy! Stop that! Play nice!' And then die._ _Gen's probably mistaken anyway, getting scared in his old age._ _Besides, Akuma doesn't try to kill, he just fights. If you fight too hard, he might end up killing you, but he doesn't go out of his way to kill. Yun or Yang almost getting attacked by some fighter doesn't mean Akuma._ _Probably wasn't even Akuma._

But if Gen's grandkids were being hunted down in Hong Kong, she could easily be next. Japan had more specials that China for Akuma to fight, but what if he wasn't going that way? What if he was coming her way? The odds would not be in her favor, in spite of China's huge population. _Even if it is him, Akuma's far enough away that I don't have to worry about him right now. Gen and his grandkids can take care of themselves. But he might come here eventually. I have to do something to keep that from happening._ A solution that didn't involve telling the old man off or involving Chunli personally presented itself, using a contact from her old lifestyle to solve a problem brought by the same.

Dialing a number long memorized, Chunli smiled. It may be the middle of the night in America, but the call would be answered. She had called it many times in her hunts for Bison, for both Interpol and herself, and it had always been answered, no matter the time nor the day. It was lousy news to be woken up with, but after the phone call, Chunli would be able to sleep, even if the person on the other side of the line couldn't. The Americans had such an amusing way of describing the relocating of responsibility. 'Passing the buck.' So quaint. Of course, an old man's story about two kids getting attacked by someone who may or may not have been Akuma probably wouldn't be enough to get the kind of help she wanted, so maybe a little embellishment was in order.

Fifteen minutes later, Guile hung up the phone and headed for the shower. There was no way that he could sleep tonight. He mulled over what he had been told: Akuma was on a rampage in Asia and probably coming to the Americas very shortly. This was a huge problem, but Guile already knew what to do. Warn everybody in the fighter's network, and try to pinpoint Akuma's location. So he needed to focus on the supporting details. Every big thing, good or bad, had a lot of details surrounding it. But rushing around half-awake caused mistakes. Stepping into the shower, Guile went through the motions of cleaning himself, stepping back out within the military's three minute mark for showering. A straight razor shave without shaving cream or using the bathroom's mirrors followed, years of practice insuring no nicks or missed spots. Now awake and refreshed, Guile went downstairs to the kitchen and made himself coffee. Black, another military habit. The battlefield was notoriously short of cream and sugar and Starbucks. Refusing to rush, Guile slowly savored his first cup, thinking on the phone call that had disturbed his sleep. Second cup of coffee in hand, he headed to his computer, ready to work.

The routine to use the computer for work was the same every time. Plug in network cable to encryption module. Login and password for computer. Password for desktop security program. Login and password for network. Passwords for access to the correct folders in the company's database. It took six minutes to get through all the security, but it was no aggravation for Guile. Security took time, and security was his job. Finally he was able to open the company's folder dedicated to Akuma. It hadn't been modified in almost two months, which was unusual but not unheard of. Two weeks was normally the longest to go without definite Akuma sightings, but longer stretches had occurred. The past month had been concentrated on destroying Shadaloo while it reeled in confusion, leaderless. And a very successful month it had been, too. But it had meant taking resources from other areas, like tracking Akuma or half a dozen other duties. But it was now time to start restoring the old priorities again, now that the mop up on Shadaloo was starting. And two months? That was enough time for Akuma to travel the world twice.

A few clicks of the mouse and some keystrokes later, and Akuma was back to High Priority – Extreme. An even dozen of Guile's personnel were now on Akuma assignment. Guile reviewed the summary. Akuma's last pattern had been no pattern, which was normal, and frustrating. Reports had him wandering aimlessly around East Europe for the past half year, coming from Asia for the full year before that, no particular direction or hurry. When he wanted to, though, he could move around the world in a month using only his ki. _If he ever gets the bright idea of teleporting aboard ships or airplanes… Oh, unholy hell would we be in trouble. Ah, focus!_ So as it stood, Akuma could definitely be in Asia. Indiscriminately killing people didn't fit his modus operandi, but was certainly well within the company's Personality Probability/Potential Profile on Akuma, or 4P.

Guile shook his head. Why was he trying to prove what Chunli had said? Something was wrong if he didn't trust her story… _Story? Shouldn't that be information?_ Guile leaned back in his chair and drank his coffee. _Why am I uneasy?_ Guile trusted his instincts, but preferred facts. Instinct could be deceived by emotions, and emotions were easily manipulated. What motivation could Chunli have to lie to him about something like Akuma? Selfish motives were usually dictated by MICE. Money, Ideology, Convictions, Ego. The easiest ones went first. Money? No, Guile had no ability to get any amount that she couldn't easily meet some other way. Ego? No, there were easier ways to sooth or boost an ego. _And I doubt Akuma called her fat or insulted her Taichi style of fighting._

So that left the harder possibilities open, Ideology and Convictions. Her Ideology was dominated by an anti-crime philosophy that bordered on the fanatical at times, but the extremes were typically directed at Bison, and by connection, Shadaloo. _And if she really thought Akuma was slaughtering scores  of normals throughout The People's Republic of China, she'd have the army and police hunting for him with instructions to kill. Yeah, that's what she'd do instead of calling here, knowing it's the middle of the night for me, just to see if I had heard anything about Akuma's whereabouts. Bingo! That's where my uneasiness comes from._ So that left Convictions. _She believes that Akuma's a problem, but doesn't want me to know why. Or wants me to take care of him for her. Akuma is a problem, that's for sure, just wish that she'd tell me the whole truth. Of course, she hasn't contacted me ever since we celebrated the news of Bison's death._ Guile sent out several RFIs, or Requests For Information, to company contacts in Asia and Europe, then emailed half a dozen fighters that had email. Then he opened his contacts folder, and sadly made modifications to a single file. 

Then he shut down the computer and consulted the list of fighters that would have to be contacted by slower, older forms of communication. Old fashioned letters, telegraphs, and runners would take time, but were necessary. Guile didn't have enough to justify using the fighters' network, but those fighters in Asia and Europe should be told. Akuma stood out too much in Africa and Central to South America, and the United States, Canada, and Australia had good reporting resources, good enough to at least spot Akuma in two months, even with the focus on Shadaloo. Guile prepared and ate an early breakfast, a healthy start for the workout program that he was about to restart. Guile had slowly let slip his intense fight training in the month since Bison's death. Instinct said it was needed again.


	9. Strength in Numbers

Strength in Numbers

Karin and Sakura sat up in the bleachers, trying to ignore Dan's endless babble from below. The girls had been talking for a while, but then they allowed the conversation to lag a bit. Now there was no hope for renewing the chitchat. Dan had seized upon the moment to recount old war stories, and didn't show any sign of getting low on material. The stories weren't half bad, but Dan was _loud_. Loud enough to have echoes in the deserted gym. The empty air carried the echoes, distorting them, running them into and over the current part of the story. It got worse as Dan talked louder to be heard over the echoes, the volume of story and echoes going higher and higher, until Karin felt her sanity slipping away. 

"…And he didn't even have a chance, except he got this lucky shot-"

"Dan!"

Oblivious to Karin, Dan went on. "-in and I got the sun in my eyes-"

"DAN!" Both girls shouted this time.

"Huh? What?"

Karin sighed. "I need to think for a while. Can you wait to finish the story later?"

Dan's disappointment showed. "But this is a real good one! I'll just finish this one, ok?"

"No, Dan." Sakura had reached her limit as well. "Give it a rest, alright?"

"But-" Dan protested, trying valiantly to finish his story.

"Dan." Sakura's voice had a hard edge to it.

"What?"

In a softer voice Sakura said, "We appreciate the effort, ok?" Long experience had taught Sakura how Dan worked, and how to deal with him.

"Oh. Ok, I was just trying to pass time." Dan sat on the first row of bleachers and fell silent.

The sounds faded away, and the gym was silent once more. Sakura looked around again. _Just how much money does the Kanzuki family have?_ _This place has it's own gymnastics building._ The building was in the center of Karin's private school. Attending a private school had its perks, of course, but Olympic-caliber sports complex made Sakura wonder. The girls were half way up the bleachers overlooking the area for the rings. Further out were the parallel bars, the uneven bars and so on. Sakura's school had the same things, but the equipment had to share space, each piece dragged out and set up only after the previous equipment had been put away. But here, the volleyball court wasn't setup over the basketball floor. Every sport had its own building, complete with bleachers.The only dual use area in this particular building was the rings and the floor routine, the rings currently hanging down from the ceiling. _It must cost a fortune to attend here!_

Karin gave a mental sigh, recognizing the calculating look in Sakura's eyes. Ordinarily Karin would have taken the opportunity to verbally jam Sakura's greed back in her face, but today was different. If it helped Sakura keep her mind off of impending death, Karin decided it was worth keeping quiet. Distraction, just another thing that Sakura had that Karin didn't. Having grown up immersed in money, Karin was used to scam artists and hard luck stories, but Sakura was different. There was an intensity to her greed that others didn't even come close to. _Sakura doesn't realize how good she has it, I guess. I'm used to all this stuff, like everybody else that attends here. Can't remember the last time I saw anybody else in here except during classes or meets. Training without distraction is nice, but it gets so boring. I may have just about everything, but I'm not allowed to leave it behind. I'd trade it all for a distraction right now…_

So much changed with a single phone call. Karin's grandfather had employed Gen's deadly talents many years ago, and after one particularly hard assignment, Gen had asked not to be paid for fulfilling the contract. Instead, he asked for a favor, to be called in later. And it had come due. The first instinct of the Kanzuki patriarch was to surround his only grandchild with an army of armed guards until Karin, backed up on the phone by Gen, told him of The Arrangement. It had taken hours of furious arguing and much redialing on Gen's part, but eventually the guards were replaced with every special that her grandfather could reach. Now Karin, Sakura, and Dan were together, awaiting their fates; each wondering if Akuma was heading their way, each wondering if the three of them could stand up to the fury of the Murderous Intent if Akuma did come. Gen and his grandsons were on their way, and maybe one other special that Karin didn't know. _I just hope they get here soon,_ Karin thought, unconsciously echoing the thoughts of Sakura and Dan.

Karin was about to ask Dan to finish his story, so that she didn't go crazy with waiting, when Dan spoke, very softly. "He's here." Karin and Sakura jumped up, looking around. 

Not used to Dan's abilities, the questions tumbled out of Karin. "What? Akuma? Where? Are you sure?" Both girls ran down the bleachers to the floor.

"Yes, I'm sure. He's outside still, but on his way in." Dan was more serious than Karin could ever believe possible.

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Karin demanded, fear of death making her cross.

"I have an extremely limited ki detection range, but-"

Sakura interrupted. "Karin, just listen to him, would ya?"

Not knowing what else to do, the trio went out to the middle of the floor and faced the doors. A door swung open, and Akuma's silhouette was framed in the sunlight as he stalked forward. Karin found herself paralyzed with fear… until Dan abruptly shattered her mood by rolling forward on the floor. He came out in a kneeling position, shaking his fist at Akuma. 

"What's the matter, Akuma? Couldn't find any old ladies or sick kittens to beat up?"

Incredulous, Karin could only stare as Dan back flipped to his starting position, screaming out "_Baka_!" in midair. Dan landed without missing a beat. "You want my autograph? Is that why you're here?"

Karin laughed. She couldn't help it. Then she glanced around and noticed a couple of things. One was that Akuma was still walking towards them, and the other was that Sakura was in her fighting stance. It looked like Sakura was letting Akuma go after Dan, and would come in while Akuma was hopefully distracted. Karin prepared herself as well, the fear no longer distracting her. Dan was preparing in his own way. 

Dan thrust out his jaw as far as it could go and scowled mightily. "Do you practice that look in the mirror every morning, Akuma? Or did it freeze that way like your mother told you it would? Oh, that's right! I forgot! You don't have a mother, do you? Climbed out of the sewer full-grown, right? Even if you did have a mother, you'd kill her too, wouldn't you?"

Akuma launched himself into the air, flying in towards Dan. Dan flew up in a Koryuken as Akuma pulled his hands back. Karin gasped as Akuma's double Gou Hadoken came out of Akuma's palms and flew at Dan. The fireballs homed in on a hapless Dan, unable to prepare a defense, committed to the uppercut. Then a bright light flashed out of Dan as he flew upwards. The fireballs hit Dan with all the effect of raindrops hitting a bullet train. Dan flew through the fireballs and slammed into Akuma, knocking him up and back. Akuma righted himself just in time to be hit sideways by Sakura's Otoshi, and hit again. The second hit pushed Akuma out of her range, and he used the respite to knock Sakura back with another fireball. Figuring this was no time for half measures, Karin wound up and unleashed her Kouoken, armored fists pounding a rhythm off Akuma's body. Landing, Karin skipped back to where Dan and Sakura waited.

"_Bueno trabajo, cabaron!_" Dan pun on his widest, cheesiest smile and gave a thumbs up to Akuma as he stood. Switching back to Japanese, Dan continued. "What to try again?"

"What was that? Just how many languages does Dan know?" Karin whispered to Sakura as Dan continued to taunt and mock Akuma.

"I don't know, that's a new one. I think I've heard eight or nine now. Hey, look!" Sakura pointed to the two identical teenagers that were running through the doors.

The Twin Dragons ran twenty feet around Akuma, never taking their eyes off of him. "Looks like we got here just in time. Saw him come in," said one of the newcomers in oddly accented Japanese.

"Notice the hair color change?" asked the other, speaking the same strangely accented Japanese out of courtesy for the others present.

Sakura and Karin were only noticing that the two Chinese boys were cute. 

"Yeah, red instead of white."

"What's that?" Dan stopped making faces at Akuma, intrigued.

"We ran into him a couple days ago, and he had white hair then," the first teenager replied.

"Hey Akuma! Getting old? Or are you just fighting that way?"

Akuma didn't reply, silently regarding the upped odds. Evidently deciding they weren't insurmountable, Akuma advanced towards the group. Then the sound of the doors opening again made him turn. The newcomer held Akuma's attention over the group of five fighters behind him. Dressed in a traditional Chinese robe tied with a sash at the waist, the hands tucked into the generous sleeves; a full head of white hair matched by a long, well-groomed beard that was just as white. Standing stoically in front of the doors was the only surviving Grandmaster of the Martial Arts, Gen. Yun and Yang rushed forward, attempting to take Akuma unaware. Akuma whirled as they lunged forward in side-by-side punches. Akuma threw his arms out from his body, pushing the punches to the outside, then slapped his hands across the sides of the boys' heads, knocking them together. Briefly staggered, the twins were unable to block the Hurricane Kick that sent them sprawling as the other fighters ran up to help. The six warriors surrounded Akuma and paused, not sure what was next, not used to the odds being in their favor.

Then all six slowly moved in. Akuma glanced from one to the next, then whipped his head around and turned, looking for something other than the six fighters encircling him. The unusual behavior made the six pause, then they rushed in. Ignoring the charge, Akuma looked up. Instantly, Akuma went into his teleport, a hail of steel embedding itself in the floor where he had been standing. Karin, Sakura, Dan, Yun, Yang, and Gen stopped their run, turning to watch Akuma reappear at the top of the bleachers. Convinced the threat was delayed, all six then turned back to the miniature metal forest they surrounded. A faint metallic rattle was heard, and they looked around for the source, careful to keep an eye on Akuma as well. Ten feet away, one of the chains holding the rings shook as something, someone, slid down from the ceiling.

A feminine figure in tight black attire dropped the last fifteen feet to the floor, an impossibly long braid trailing out from the top of the cloth covering her head. The new arrival screamed out her frustration. "Lucky bastard! I almost had you! GRAAAH! Come down and face me!" Ibuki beckoned the distant figure with a gloved left hand, her right hand clinched in a fist, three knives nestled in between the fingers swathed in black leather.

Akuma stared stone-faced from the top of the bleachers. Then he teleported through the wall behind him and out of sight.

"He's gone," Dan said, wonder in his voice.

"Yes, he is," Gen confirmed.

A sigh of relief ran through the others. 

Sakura was the most vocal. "I'm so glad that's over. I need a smoke." Sakura walked over to the bleachers where her duffle bag was, Karin following.

"Sakura! You haven't quit yet?" Karin said. "You shouldn't be smoking at all!"

"Well, I do. So quit nagging, mother." 

"It's bad for you, Sakura!"

"So's fighting. And I was as close to dying a minute ago as I've ever been, so I need to relax." Sakura turned and left, Karin following, still protesting. Dan followed, refereeing.

"She does have a point, Karin," Dan said.

"But she's alive, and shouldn't be trying to kill herself slowly!" Karin turned her attention back to Sakura. "I'm sure Akuma would accommodate you if really wanted to die!"

"Good one!" Dan said, upsetting Sakura.

"Shut up, Dan! I don't want to die, I want to relax, and you guys aren't letting me!"

"I don't want to see anything kill you, that's all. Not Akuma, and not your stupid habit! And besides all that, you're underage!"

"Yeah? Well, you'll feel real stupid in sixty years, lying in the hospital, dying of nothing." The doors closed behind them, cutting off the day's entertainment for the four left inside.

Yun and Yang then truly noticed the curves in the black-garbed figure before them and instantly started forward to introduce themselves. "Boys." The twins stopped and looked sheepishly at their grandfather, who gestured for them to go outside as well. His adopted grandsons dismissed, the Ansatsuken Master of Mantis, Crane, Tiger, Bear, Monkey and many other styles addressed Ibuki one on one. "You prepared and threw a little too early. A second or so more and he would have been too busy to notice your use of ki. Exceptional number of knives in a short amount of time, however."

Apparently embarrassed that someone had seen her miss, Ibuki made a show of carefully tugging and pulling the knives out of the floor. "I didn't want to hit the wrong person." Ibuki opened a thin metal case and began carefully placing the knives inside.

"You placed a dozen knives within a two by two foot square in less than a second from a long distance with a severe altitude difference. You should be more confidant of your abilities, young kunoichi."

"Thank you, Grandmaster." There was a pause as Ibuki placed the last knife and slipped the case into the carrying pouch on her back. "When will he come back?"

"I do not believe he will bother us, Ibuki. Not soon."

"Too many of us? I thought that the challenge would lure him in."

"Perhaps. But I believe that you turned the tide against him."

"What? Sorry, Grandmaster. What I meant was that everybody knows about you and Akuma, but me?"

Gen looked into the distance, his voice soft and thoughtful. "Akuma did not flee when I arrived. Then you came, and he left." Gen at Ibuki out of the corner of his eye. "Of course, the fact that you escaped - perhaps a better word is frustrated - his earlier attempts to kill you may have something to do with it, would you agree?"

Ibuki's eyes went wide behind her mask. "How did you know that? I haven't told anyone!"

"No, but consider these things: your knives are powdered black to prevent reflection; however, there is a dull gleam instead of a bright shine upon the edges. And I did notice the heavy gloves and the metal carrying case for your knives. Not your usual equipment, unless I am mistaken in my judgments." Ibuki stared at the ground, suddenly fascinated by the mat. "Also, you did not try to fight him; instead, you tried to kill him. It was an excellent job of placing the antidote as well. I did not notice what you were doing until the last two or three knives. But enough of that. I believe that Sakura should be finished by now, and it is time for lunch. I will meet you outside once you have changed."

Gen turned and walked for the door, leaving a subdued Ibuki to watch his receding back. _Is his threat analysis unaffected by the Alzheimer's? Or was it just a rumor? He knows my name. Just reminded by my clan when they sent me? Or does he still remember from the Night Wars between the assassin guilds and the ninja clans? Maybe his grandsons know._ Gen opened the door and exited the building. A mist exploded into existence, and Ibuki stood in the clearing air, dressed in jeans and a plain yellow t-shirt, a backpack over one shoulder. 

_But Gen doesn't know everything, and that's good. It was Akuma who escaped; not I. Wasn't an antidote I was placing. Wouldn't have bothered neutralizing the area if it was only poison. Wouldn't wear gloves if it was just poison. But for my supreme cocktail of nerve, bacterial and chemical agents? Gloves are definitely needed._

Ibuki started slowly walking towards the door, thinking hard. _Got to find out how Dan got through Akuma's fireballs. Could he get through my ki kunai as well? Need to know about Akuma's hair changing color, too… Did those two encounter him before or after I did? How did they escape? Since when does Sakura smoke? And why does Karin care? So many questions. Maybe some answers will come at lunch._

Stepping out into the bright sunlight, Ibuki flashed a bright smile at the waiting fighters. "So where we going for lunch? I'm starved!"


	10. Unmasked

Author's note: This chapter takes place between the end of chapter 3 (Butchering of Prey) and the start of chapter 4 (King and Emperor).

**Unmasked**

Vega stood on the porch, watching the sunrise. Today was a very important day. Edmund Honda was leaving, flying to Africa to do a series of charity matches, his visit to Thunder Hawk's ranch at an end. It was also the day that Honda had promised to talk with Vega. They had talked before, but it was always small talk, about the weather or the newest additions to the World Warrior ranks or other inconsequential things. It had taken a couple days to get used to seeing Honda without his face paint, in sweat pants and shirt, but that was past.

Vega's arrival a couple weeks earlier had been uncomfortable, at best. His unannounced appearance at the ranch T. Hawk owned had caused some tension. Actually, it caused a lot of tension. Most of that came from Cammy's reaction, but Vega couldn't really blame her. Only Edmund Honda's intervention had allowed Vega to even be on the ranch. That wasn't to say that Honda trusted Vega, it was just that he felt that Vega could be thrashed later… if necessary.

Vega's mind wandered as he drank his tea. _Well, Edmund is definitely here to help with Juni and Juli. Makes sense, as he's the first person anybody in the fighters' realm thinks to go for advice or help with… difficult personal issues. He may not be a professional counselor, but his unending good cheer is good to be around. Cammy's probably here to watch over the Dolls. Though they're not really Dolls anymore. They still act like it, though. Shadaloo's gone, so they're probably the closest thing Cammy's got to a family. Now that's an interesting thought…Hawk thinks that one of them is a member of his tribe, but damned if I know which one. The girls are similar to Hawk like grapes are similar to yaks._ Vega stretched luxuriously, shedding his early morning laziness. _They banned me from even looking into the courtyard, but even if I was deaf, I could tell you that they're training in there. Probably a form of therapy for the Dolls._

Draining his cup, Vega went back inside the guest house. _Of course, only my acceptance of their rules keeps me out of the courtyard. Perhaps I should offer to give my own insights on training. _An image flashed into Vega's mind. Poised on the top of the wall in the best ninja form, looking down into the arena, the sun shining dramatically behind him as his braid whipped around from his jump, his mask and claw striking fear… Vega shook his head. No, that was a bad idea. Cammy had gone ballistic when she saw them.

She had been mad enough, just being told that Vega was at the ranch gate. Insisted on going through his luggage, even. Hadn't bothered to open up the matched luggage that had finally joined him in Dallas while Vega enjoyed the exciting nightlife and wonderful views that only a hotel room could provide. Cammy just threw those out into the dirt, digging through the trunk of the car for something else. The others had watched Cammy's activity with Vega's belongings, Honda's face and posture clearly showing he was embarrassed, while Thunder Hawk was inscrutable. Juni and Juli were blank, as usual. Cammy had finally found what she was looking for in the front passenger seat.

Her attempts to force the slim case open were frustrated, of course. The brushed steel was not for looks alone, although it did look good. But enough had been enough. Vega had snatched the case from the ground where Cammy dropped it when she leapt into the air, looking like she was going to try to break the reinforced locks and hinges open with her diving Cannon Strike. Vega let her land, then thumbed the combinations on the locks to the right numbers and opened the case, displaying the contents to everyone. Inside, nestled in the padding, his mask and fighting claw lay. Of course.

Seeing the tools of his trade, Cammy had started making a case against letting Vega on the ranch to Thunder Hawk. If she would have had her way, Vega wasn't sure he'd be allowed on the same continent. She had tried every argument. From her long association with Vega to the fact that he was a main member of Shadaloo, she attacked it all. She even brought up the fact that he had killed the last time she saw him.

"I did that to let Sagat and yourself escape."

"See! He admits he turned on one of his fellow lackeys! And he owes us even less!"

"I also did that to help all the Dolls escape." That wasn't true, but it sounded good. Vega wanted on the ranch. When he said that, something unexpected happened. Maybe. Vega wasn't sure, but out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw one of the two Dolls present blink. The other Dolls were scattered around the world, last he heard. But Edmund indubitably was moved by that statement.

"Liar! You were going to attack Sagat! I had to attack to stop you!"

"That stopped my attack, yes; but I stopped because I chose to stop. Something changed." Vega ran a finger down the scar next to his eye at that point. From the startled look on Cammy's face, Vega guessed that she hadn't really seen the scar earlier or realized what it meant while trying to upset Vega by tearing through his luggage. Any plastic surgeon worth his diploma could have erased the scar without a trace, yet there it remained. As Cammy sputtered, Vega held up the mask next to his face. A crease remained in the metal where damage had been hammered out. The imperfections in mask and face matched.

"He's not to be trusted! YOU CAN'T LET HIM IN!" Shaken, Cammy abandoned logic for volume. And Edmund started reasoning for letting Vega in. Even Cammy had to admit that Vega wasn't 'acting his usual bastard self'. Hawk agreed, and since the Dolls didn't appear to have an opinion, the two men overrode Cammy's objections.

"Fine! If he kills us all in the middle of the night, don't complain to me!" Cammy yelled as she stalked away, little puffs of dust trailing her boots.

Vega blinked a few times at that, but Honda's loud guffaw broke the spell.

It had been unexpected, Cammy and the Dolls at the ranch. Hawk wasn't. While getting details about Honda's activities, Oscar had found out who the owner of the ranch was, and informed Vega. Cammy still watched him like he was a rabid dog that needed to be shot, of course, but he was on the ranch anyway. Hawk was like a force of nature. Wasn't really positive, wasn't really negative, just existed. Beyond a doubt, he existed. It was good that he wasn't against Vega, but it would have been nice to know that Thunder Hawk was on Vega's side. The Dolls treated him the same way they treated everything else outside of a fight – no reaction at all. None of the general curiosity or caution most have of a stranger, no fear in spite of the almost guaranteed continual warnings from Cammy, no repulsion to his scar, no attraction to his grace. Vega had been propositioned twice on his way to New Mexico. Of course, the one in New York had been a homosexual man, but the approach of the blonde twins in the Dallas airport had reassured him more than mere words could describe. Vega even stopped considering cutting his hair after that.

But it was about time for breakfast, the time Honda set for their talk, so Vega strolled over to the main ranch house, thinking about what he was going to say. He shouldn't have bothered.

"About time! I thought you wanted to talk!" Honda bellowed good naturedly from the table. Recently-used plates and bowls filled the table in front of him. The smell of food filled the kitchen.

"Yes, I do; I – "

"Ah, sit down! Sit, sit!" Vega sat across the table, facing Honda. "You've got to eat if you want to have any strength in battle!" Honda rose with a grace that belied his huge size, collecting the dirty dishes from in front of Vega with practiced skill as he did so. He glanced over his shoulder as he moved to the sink. "Can't be bothered to wear a watch, eh? Anything good enough for you to wear would distract from you, wouldn't it?" He put the dishes in the sink as Vega sat stunned. He hadn't known what to expect, but in two and a half weeks, nothing remotely like this had come to mind. Honda pulled a new set of dishes from the cabinets as he continued to talk.

"You're gonna have to change, Vega. You will not get what you want unless you do." Honda placed the setting in front of Vega as well as any maître d' ever could and moved away, clearly comfortable in any place that had food and a place to eat it.

Vega wasn't even sure what he wanted. How did Honda know, then? "I, um," Vega started.

"You're looking for a friend, Vega. I've got no problems with that, but you do!" Honda's voice was loud and powerful, leaving the kitchen with no room for any other noise. "You want to me to be your friend, right?" Honda asked.

All Vega could do was nod.

"See, a friend doesn't want things from his friends. Doesn't deserve 'em. Not at first, anyway! But you want me to be your friend, and offer nothing in return!" Glasses of milk, orange juice and cups of coffee appeared almost by magic while Honda moved around the kitchen. "You'll never get friends that way, and you will need more than just me!" Honda filled the plates with eggs, bacon, sausage, buttered toast and hash browns as he talked.

Vega sat, blinking, the ambush in full swing.

"To get good at anything, especially something unfamiliar to you, you must practice at it. Because you have no experience with friends, now you must train to be a friend. If you are not friendly, you will not have friends!" Edmund Honda placed a plate piled high with pancakes in the middle of the table and sat. "Now eat!"

Vega obediently picked up his fork and started on the eggs. They were the thing most familiar on his plate.

"Yes, it's not your usual, and yes, I could have made many things you would like better. But you're in America, and when in America…"

Vega smiled at the mauled saying as he chewed his eggs.

"Also, your future friends won't be like you. Food is just one example! You must get used to others' strange habits rather than shun them. Some of those may be repulsive to you!" Honda slapped his huge hand into his even bigger gut. A loud Smack! went through the room in spite of the fabric. "I know you don't like fat people! Yet here you are! And keep eating!"

Vega looked at his choices. The eggs were gone, so next was either meat and grease or potatoes and grease. Or toasted bread covered in melting grease. Taking a drink of orange juice to stall for time, Vega decided that the sausage looked the best. Feeling the weight of the silence more than Honda's eyes, he took a bite, and nearly gagged. It was nothing like what he'd expected. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. Still, Vega was man enough to choke it down, and covered up the taste with some orange juice. That mixture was even worse than the sausage by itself.

"That's another lesson in being friendly. You must still be yourself, even if you change a little. Faking will hurt you more than friends gained by faking would help. Some people you may never get along with. But in small enough amounts, you should be able to tolerate them. If you can't, don't get around them. In food terms, if you can't handle the grease, get a pancake."

Vega gratefully pushed the plate of hot fat away and pulled a new plate with a pancake on it towards him.

"Something else. Situations and different people will make a person more or less friendly, just as toppings and the aftertastes of foods affect how other food tastes." Edmund pushed butter, maple syrup, jelly and peanut butter across the table. "Sometimes you have to find out what works for you."

Vega sat and ate, digesting the lecture as he expanded his palate. Edmund also fell to eating, and the two enjoyed a comfortable silence.

Finally, some minutes later, Honda sat back from the table, watching as Vega discovered the joy that is bacon. "Now, you've got to do it. Knowing does nothing for you if you do nothing with what you know!" He squinted at Vega from the other side of the table. "You are a special case, Vega. You have a reputation, one that won't go away in a day or month or even a year. You lapse back into your old ways just once, and you'll lose everything you worked for, at least for the near future. Maybe in six or seven years, you'll have enough credibility to survive a lapse, but don't count on it!" He glanced up at the clock. "I've got to go, I have a plane to catch. Look me up in a couple months, tell me how you are doing!"

The two men shook hands across the table. Vega finally found his voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Honda. I appreciate you taking a chance on me."

"Ah, I'm your friend, not your supervisor. Call me Ed, Edmund or Honda, but don't call me late for dinner! Bwahahaha! I'll see you in a few months, friend!"

Honda strode out, brushing both sides of the doorway as he did so. Vega sat back, thinking. It was his favorite thing to do ever since regaining his sanity, and he had a lot to think about. Picking up the coffee mug, he sniffed the contents, then quickly put it back down. Wasn't even close to tea. Probably eat a hole in his stomach if he drank it. Trying the milk instead, he leaned forward on the table.

"Hey! Clean up the kitchen for the others!" Ed, Edmund and Honda stood outside, yelling through the doorway. "I cook, you clean! And this isn't give and take! It's give and give! See you later, tiny!"

Vega looked down at his lithe body, then up at the sumo's bulk. And smiled.

Later on in the day, when everybody else was eating, Vega entered the kitchen. The four people looked up, one uncertain and uncomfortable at his approach, three neutral in the extreme.

"Honda's gone. He's the reason I came here, at first. Um, I have to go back to my home in Spain for a week or two. I'm renovating, and some decisions have to be made in person, so I'm leaving tomorrow in any case. But I would like to come back, and perhaps I could assist in the 'remedy through training' that I'm guessing is going on. If you're agreed?" It was the most Vega had spoken to any of them in the time he was there.

Cammy finished chewing the food that had been forgotten in her mouth, and swallowed. She glanced at T. Hawk.

"I'd like you to come back," said Juni, then she returned to eating.


	11. Juggernaut

**Juggernaut**

Four weeks later, Cammy was walking towards the courtyard for the girls-only early morning skirmish, red gauntlets in hand, when she noticed Juni and Juli outside. Not only were they not inside the courtyard, as was their habit, they were holding hands and looking out into the desert. They were wearing their battle vambraces instead of the practice guards.

_Maybe they want to have a real fight today. Don't know if that's a good idea. It does show initiative, though… I guess that's a good thing. If that's what it is._

"Hello, girls!" Cammy said with a cheerfulness she didn't feel.

The two didn't even look up, increasing Cammy's unease. Usually Juni would at least look at whoever spoke to her now. Juni had said little more since she spoke to Vega, but still, she did communicate. Juli still hadn't said anything, and now Juni seemed to have regressed. _No! I will not think like that! They WILL get better, they WILL. _The more improvement the former Dolls made, the more Cammy's desperation morphed into a feverish, zealous hope.

"Juni? What's the matter?"

Juni turned and looked at Cammy, her face as blank as any Doll fresh from the mind control process, then looked back out into the desert.

"Juni? What's the matter? Please! What's wrong?"

There was no response. _I hate to do this._ "Juni! Status!"

Nothing. Cammy switched targets. "Juli. Status."

Juli replied, "Incoming." Her voice, dead of all emotion, made invisible spiders crawl up and down Cammy's spine.

Bison's success forming Cammy into a deadly hand-to-hand assassin led him to experiment with the skills of the twelve girls that followed her, like a little girl would change the clothes on her dolls, trying to find the combination she liked best. The result was a reduction of hand-to-hand abilities, but the Dolls gained several skills that Cammy did not. If combat became necessary, Cammy took care of it. And if repeated modifications forced upon their minds by the Psycho Drive destroyed their memories – and along with their memories, their personalities – what was that to Bison? He wasn't looking for conversationalists.

Cammy grit her teeth, driving the hate for a dead man out of her mind. "Class."

"Category Four."

Cammy started. _Bugger me. Even Sagat is barely Category Four. And if it's 'Incoming,' it's coming for us. _"Identification."

"Unknown."

Cammy almost snorted. Of course. Nothing was ever that easy. "Estimated time of arrival."

"Imminent."

Cammy started putting on her armored arm guards. _Snafu. _"Juni. Juli. Recon from cover. Data preservation highest priority." _That'll keep them safe._

"We'll stay with you." Juni spoke, but didn't look at Cammy.

Cammy's face twisted with anguish. She wanted them to talk, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Oh no, Juni, don't. Please."

"We stay."

Cammy bit her lip and swallowed. "I don't want to lose you, either of you, after getting you this far… run! Please!"

There was a pause, and Juni said, "We don't want to lose you either." She glanced at Cammy from the corner of her eye, and quickly looked back out at the desert. In the instant of eye contact, Cammy saw how much the short conversation cost Juni. Too much, too soon; Juni was too vulnerable for that level of conversation.

Cammy looked down at her guards, away from Juni, and latched up the left guard over her forearm. Then she put her right arm into the other guard and latched it up while looking out into the desert, to try and see what was incoming. That was the plan, anyway. Instead, she put her right arm into the vambrace and looked up to see an incoming punch. Instinctively, her arms came up to protect her jaw. The punch hit the armor and still rocked Cammy back. Before she could react, a second blow slammed into her stomach, bending her forward to receive an uppercut between the eyes, her guard lowered towards her just-hit abdomen.

The punch didn't hurt too bad, but little fireflies of light danced before her eyes as she rapidly backpedaled, trying to get time to recover. As she blinked the blinding lights away, Cammy saw Juni's flying sidekick get parried to the side almost condescendingly, the blow missing as Juni flew towards the attacker, unchecked. The momentum gave power to the elbow that slammed into her ribs, spilling her ungracefully out of the air to the hard desert surface. Cammy fumbled for the latches for her loose guard, watching through the sparks as the _(barefoot, red hair)_ attacker turned to follow up on the attack. Watched as Juli's carbon copy of Cammy's own Cannon Drill slam into the small of the _(dress and gear of martial artist)_ attacker's back. Which made the _(identity unknown)_ attacker take one step forward, instead of his spine snapping. It should have broke, since he didn't fly off his feet. Even if he'd gone with the blow, his muscles should have been spasming from pain and injury.

So Cammy watched, fastening the last latch as Juli hit the dirt, not ready for her momentum to be completely stopped. Guard latched and vision back to normal, Cammy started to run towards the back of the attacker as he whirled and kicked at the grounded Juli. _If he tries to absorb this attack, he's crippled, I don't care who he is._

Juli blocked the kick with crossed arms, sliding back six inches. As a second kick collided with Juli's guard, Cammy's Cannon Drill hit the attacker's grounded back leg at the ankle. Sliding along the ground with the Cannon Drill's follow through, Cammy looked back to see the attacker land from an impossible flip. Instead of resisting the inertia of the attack, he'd gone with it and somehow landed on his feet. Cammy came to a stop, helpless on the ground, three feet away from the attacker as his ki surged and his hands cupped as they went back to the side.

Before the attack could materialize, red-encased hands solidly latched around the _(style similar to Ryu)_ attacker's waist and Juli slammed the attacker with her Earth Direct. Juli rolled away as the attacker did a kippup into Juni's second flying sidekick. The attacker sprawled again and quickly got back up, a little more cautiously, but otherwise showing no hesitation or effects from the two hard-hitting attacks.

Three attacks were launched at a target still gaining his feet, and still he managed to parry two and dodge the third. The three-part assault was launched again and again and again, and was stopped every time. It was three-to-one, and still the target found opportunity to lash out. The counter attacks were blocked, the armored guards hit time and again, preventing serious injury.

_I can't believe he still finds time to attack. Use our numbers, force the issue._

Cammy flew into a close-ranged Cannon Spike, her kick ricocheting off the _(solid, perfectly positioned)_ guard, pushing her into the air and backwards. Flipping around to land, Cammy's view of the ground was blocked by a rising punch. Arms out for balance, there was no chance of blocking the strike. She yanked her head to the side to prevent her nose from being shoved up into her brain, taking the hit on her cheek. The world went bright and then dark and then swam into normal illumination, but it sounded funny and the ground was in the wrong spot. Gravity was still working, even with the misplaced ground, and pulled her into the hard, hot desert surface, but the collision didn't even distract her from the pain her head was in. The ground swirled into a more-or-less down position, and Cammy managed to look out at the still unstable world to see Juni jumping away from a rising, recently-knocked-to-the-ground Category Four.

Swallowing the pain, Cammy lurched to her hands and knees. Juli ran over to Cammy, leaving Juni alone to face the inexorable attacker. Cammy protested as the brunette helped her to feet. "Juni – help Juni. I'll be fine. I'm fine. Help Juni." The words had a slur that pierced the ringing in her ears, but Cammy managed to stand erect. "Go help Juni."

"Unit Six has control."

Closing one eye to reduce the vertigo, Cammy saw both Juni and the Category Four flickering in and out of view. The open eye closed and Cammy very, very gingerly shook her head and took a deep breath. Opening both eyes, Cammy was able to stand without leaning on Juli. And see for certain that the two fighters were in fact disappearing and reappearing around the desert, one chasing after the other as it retreated. _So that's how I got sucker punched._ Feeling the punch-drunkenness fading, Cammy started out to the general area of the two fighters appearances, but Juli held her back.

"Regroup." Putting her fingers to her mouth, Juli gave a piercing whistle. An instant later, Juli appeared next to Juni, looking very tired. Before Cammy could try and get them to retreat, Juli took Juni's hand and a blue glow surrounded them both. With the blue glow came the distinctive feeling of Psycho Power, and Cammy watched as Juli's weary look faded away. _When did Juni learn teleportation? And how are they still able to manipulate Psycho Power?_

Something triggered in the back of Cammy's mind and she spun around. The punch was powerful, it hurt; but it was nothing compared to what had hit her out of the air just twenty seconds ago. Cammy took the punch, but retaliated at the same time with a Cannon Spike. The one time he couldn't possibly defend was when he was attacking. Dark thoughts went through Cammy's head as she landed from the move, this time on her feet. _I'll call it Cannon… Revenge! Yes, Cannon Revenge sounds good. Can't use it all the time – uses too much ki and I'm still getting hit. I don't know how many more hits to the head I can take. Not many._

Cammy risked a glance back at the girls as the victim of her new technique flew back, earth-bound. The girls still held hands, but they had switched hands. Another build-up of Psycho Power came, but it felt more aggressive, a stockpile of destruction. Cammy stepped away from the pair, placing herself between them and the attacker. It wouldn't do much good if he used a teleport, but doing that _had_ to use a lot of ki, didn't it? And they would need time to do… whatever it was.

The attacker came racing in on foot, straight for Cammy. Deciding on a bluff, Cammy cupped her hands and twisted sideways, away from the incoming Category Four. As she hoped, her attacker jumped to come in over the projectile. _Gotcha, bastard. I'm not a hado-thrower._ He started a diving in kick, similar to her own Cannon Strike, and Cammy knew what to do. She jumped, ending her false Hadoken, shooting by the kicking leg. _Grab, twist, yank._ A perfect Hooligan Combination executed, Cammy slammed her adversary's head into a large rock conveniently sticking out of the ground, standing on his jaw to add her weight to the impact from falling from a dozen feet in the air. The rock broke, but the pieces were smeared with crimson. Cammy hopped a few feet away, discouraged as her dust-covered opponent stood anyway.

He turned his head towards her and got both of his feet taken out from under him. Juli's Spin Drive Smasher continued, her boots crushing his face, launching him into the air. His parabola peaked, and he started his return to the earth when a large blue streak tore into his entire body, slashing and swirling, cutting and driving him out into the desert. Cammy's tired body spiked adrenaline into her body as she saw the blue energy rage and then fade away, finally letting its target to tumble and roll on the desert hardpack. _I thought I saw Bison in that Psycho Crusher for a second. But he's ash scattered to the tides of three oceans. And there was no one inside, guiding the Crusher. I think. I hope. But then where did it come from?_ Looking around, Cammy saw Juni lower her arm from a salute. _Bugger me. Did she call up his ghost? What are these girls capable of? _Cammy jogged twenty yards away to lean in the shade of a mesquite tree, hands on her knees, blowing hard. The 95 degrees Fahrenheit weather was conspiring with the repeated blows to the head to sap her stamina and ki. The Hooligan Combination had taken just about the last of her reserves.

Juni and Juli came into the shade where Cammy was resting, concerned looks on their faces. Juni gently touched her swelling cheek, pulling her hand back when Cammy sucked in a hissing breath. Cammy laughed, a short, tired, humorless bark. "And I thought I would be taking care of you. At least I'm still vertical, I guess."

Juni took Cammy's left hand in her left hand and closed her eyes. A second later, she opened her eyes and released Cammy's hand, frowning a bit. Juli repeated the process, except with her right hand, but still there was no blue glow, no rise of Psycho Power.

"Not your fault. I can't do what you can. It's ok. I've been through worse many times before." _I was in the hospital afterwards, every single time, but I got through it._ The problem was, Juni and Juli knew that too. Their concerned faces didn't relax a whit, but they turned to each other, and again the aggressive Psycho Power built up around them. _Why are they doing that? We thoroughly thrashed…_Cammy looked out into the desert, to see the fiend standing where he had fallen. He was dirty, but he looked undamaged. No pain, no stagger, no swelling. His arms were crossed over his chest, clearly waiting for Juli and Juni to finish. They did, and the power emanating from them was strong enough that Cammy could feel it, despite not being ki-sensitive. That amount of power on her team gave Cammy confidence until the unknown stomped into a strange half-Cat Stance. For a second, Cammy could actually see the ki rising off his body. It was blood-red, and it shed power in waves that dwarfed Juli and Juni's.

Cammy was stunned. _Is there such a thing as a Category Five?_ And in that instant, Juli and Juni ran past her.

Their target went into his normal stance as he waited for them, letting them out-pace Cammy as they ran. Arriving at their target before Cammy was halfway there, Juli and Juni went into their ultimate technique. On opposite sides, blue ki highlighting their fastest and hardest hitting blows, the two former Dolls trapped their target between them as they struck out in their Death Cross Dancing. It was as if the Category Four was done playing around, because he parried every attack. The finisher, a pair of Cannon Spikes, he simply avoided, then countered. As a horrified Cammy continued to run in, a very fast and short hurricane kick hammered both the former Dolls. He landed and instantly leapt up in a rising punch to hit a still-falling Juni.

Cammy ran towards where Juni was falling, watching as a mountain rose to meet the red-haired monster. The four hundred pound, seven-foot-plus Thunder Hawk slammed his hands around the Category Four's head, going into an aerial Raging Typhoon. Hawk's arms whirled in a circle and slammed the fiend's body into the ground, holding on only to his head. Then leapt and did it again, and then again.

Cammy stopped running as the dust rose from the final impact, still hurt and winded. Cammy looked up to see Hawk throw the now-limp body into the dirt.

Cammy yelled over to where Hawk was. "Hawk! …Kill him! He's… dangerous!"

Hawk turned her way, saying, "I took care of him, Cammy."

"He can take… a lot… of punishment! …We hit… him… with everything we had… Kill him!"

Hawk started striding her way. "His neck snapped."

"Then rip his head off! …Please! Just make sure… he's dead!"

Hawk stopped. His shoulders heaved in a visible sigh Cammy couldn't hear twenty yards away, and turned around. Cammy gaped in horror as she saw the man-mountain's head snap backwards. Cammy started to run as Hawk's head snapped backwards again. She had managed one running step when Thunder Hawk was launched into the air accompanied by a sickening sound similar to a shovel hitting wet concrete. His body still hid his assailant's, but Cammy saw the blue ki images still in the form of a rising punch. Cammy reached Hawk's still form two seconds after it landed. A second later she was under attack again. Unable to do anything but defend and retreat, she did so, leading away from where Hawk and Juni lay. _Maybe they're alive, maybe he won't attack a fallen. Well, maybe he'll forget about them._

A kick got around her guard, rocking her head sideways. Four punches followed and a fireball finished, actually setting Cammy on fire as it hurt her and knocked her down. _Like getting hit with a flaming medicine ball._ Instinctively rolling to put the fire out, Cammy accidentally dodged an axe kick, answering her question on whether the fiend would finish a downed opponent. Cammy tried to get away, but another kick caught her in the side and sent her sprawling again. Trying to put air back into her lungs resulted in the discovery of at least two broken ribs. _I've done what I can. I'll die with my eyes open._ Unable to do any more, Cammy spit on her attacker from her hands and knees. A kick at her head was the result. Cammy tried to roll with it, but was too slow, hampered by her exhaustion and doomed by the damage already taken.

Cammy gazed up as her attacker stood over her. She was fairly certain that she should be frightened, but it was like saying someone on the other side of the world was just in an accident. It was probably true, and it'd suck to be them, but it was pretty hard to come up with any real concern over the fact. A lack of concern and a total inability to move much more than her eyes left very few options open.

So Cammy watched as the swaying giant raised his foot to break her neck and red gauntlets locked around his waist. The Category Four snapped his head back into Juli's face, stopping the suplex. But for the instant that his head was tilted up, and Vega slashed his throat. Blood geysered out eight feet, showering Cammy. Juli staggered away as the fiend futilely clasped hands around his severed carotid artery.

"Vega…" It was hard to hear through the ringing in her ears, but Cammy concentrated on not passing out, trying to listen anyway.

Vega, masked and clawed, turned his head towards Juli. Only the claw was bloody, not a drop of the spray had landed on his body. The mask tilted, a questioning motion. He fought with a blunted, bent-tipped claw, but his current claw was straight and obviously razor sharp.

"He regenerates." Cammy had no idea what that meant, but it sounded like the end of universe.

The giant that had been standing over her, hands and arms turning red, fell. His fall made Cammy feel a hundred times better, which was still pretty lousy, but it also made her miss the next thing that Juli said. Cammy tried to make the world make more sense, but it failed to cooperate. Just seeing and breathing at the same time was hard. She didn't even have time to feel disgusted for having that guy's blood all over her, so she lay there and tried to breathe a couple times. Then he got back up. On top of that, it got hotter, and things went pretty dark. Cammy closed her eyes so she could think and breathe at the same time. _It's not fair._ Done thinking, she opened her eyes again.

Somebody must have agreed that it wasn't fair, because Somebody was stabbing the unfair guy. Cammy wasn't sure that being unfair should mean that Somebody should repeatedly stab you in the chest and face, but the darkness kind of stuttered out, so it seemed ok. There were some purple lights to replace the blackness, and they were much prettier, but they went away pretty fast, too.

Wanting to see where they went, Cammy tried to sit up. Something rushed to or from her head, and her side _hurt_ and then everything went away.


	12. Distress Signals

**Distress Signals**

Sagat looked down at the invitation to the tournament. Just seven days before the close of registration and the start of the fights. Well, a minimum of seven days. Official start would be when the 'acting champion' arrived. _Either they know where Ryu is or there will be some unofficial matches. Probably would be anyway, to determine rankings._ No matter. Sagat had promised Cammy he would be at the next tournament, and he would be there.

Another messenger ran in.

…

Rolento read over the fax carefully, doing some quick mental math. _If I can win four times, that's enough to get my commandos outfitted properly. Need to get there quick to scout before the fights start._

…

Alex almost threw the paper away. He didn't know these people. _Not much advance notice for this thing. They're paying for everything, though; maybe it's not another cheap backyard tournament. …Eh, it's not like I have anything better to do. _

…

Birdie finally shook off the haze of interrupted sleep as the grunt read the invitation out loud for the third time. _Wonder if any a' th' old bosses'll be there. They got an invite if I got one, if they breathin'. Keep hearin' everybody dead, and now some other outfit's doin' th' matches. Gotta find out what's happened._

"Alright, shuddup an' get me to th' airport, already."

…

Elena stared at her father in disbelief. "I don't care about their tournament, why should I go?"

"When lions invite you to share lunch, _accept_. Or would you rather be lunch yourself?"

…

Sean couldn't believe it. A tournament, and he was invited! His chance to finally get a win! _And if I get a win against a World Warrior, I'm automatically in the World Warrior bracket!_

…

Guy stared at the last line. Something was very wrong._ Opening the elite class? Only seven days' warning before the start of the tournament? What happened?_

…

"You can't go! We're in the middle of shooting! We're behind schedule!"

Fei-Long's eyes flicked back towards the rotund, sweaty, greasy producer, but he kept walking.

"I don't care how big of a star you are, or how big you think you are, you can't go!"

Fei-Long stopped. Turned around.

The producer swallowed hard. "Perhaps we can work on the script while you're away. It needs the attention."

…

Oro stepped out of his cave. _I have been in solitude long enough. I will go and see what compels so many of the strong to one place at one time._

…

It was done.

The fighters' network was delivering the invitations for the first semi-open street fighter tournament… and the first in recent history not run by Shadaloo.

Guile sat in front of his computer, re-reading the invitation he'd sent out. Bait for the greedy, challenge for the proud, opportunity for the driven, warning for the discerning, a spectacle for the curious, flattery for the vain – it was all there. _I'll tell the boss that he has to pay for this… soon. Not right now._

In seven days, the fights would start – all in one location. Too many participants, too many unknown faces to have the usual world-wide fighting locals was the excuse given. Loss of home field advantage was softened by a neutral location and besides, host's money, host's rules. 'Come quick, get the jet lag out of your system' was the underlying message in the invitation's wording.

Guile's fax whined to life.

As he reached for the paper, a chime sounded on his computer. A new email wanted his attention. Changing course, he reached for the mouse to open his email.

The phone rang.

Guile paused, looked at the paper in the fax machine, the blinking envelope icon and then at the still ringing phone. _I have to get rid of that thing. It never brings me good news._ Guile clicked the icon to open his email software, then reached for the phone.

"Hello?" was the highly original opening he chose, grabbing the fax as he spoke.

Whatever the person said on the other end of the line was lost to Guile as his eyes read the first line of the fax. Guile's eyes closed as put the fax down.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

The answer from the other side of the phone made his eyes snap open again. Which allowed him to see the third variation of the same news in his email. At the conclusion of the conversation, Guile sat back. _Three dead. Two World Warriors. Two out of eight. Ryu, Ken, Chunli, myself, Blanka, Honda. Zangief – dead. Dhalsim – dead. Adon wasn't elite, but he was good. _It was time to call the boss. Guile was the boss's link to the fighter's network, after all.

He called Ken Masters' cell phone.

"The wireless customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. If-"

He tried Ken's phone again.

"The wireless customer-"

He called Ken's wife.

"The wireless-"

He called his wife. She said Ken and Eliza were spending the weekend at their mountain cabin in Aspen, Colorado. Guile called the cabin. Guile called the cabin. Guile called the cabin–

Guile called an old friend.

"Sorry, Guile, I can't help you. This isn't just pulling one over on the quartermaster like back in the day. I can't do this for you."

"Fine. This is no longer your old buddy Guile. This is Lieutenant Colonel Guile of the USAF, your superior officer. Once again, I need real-time satellite surveillance of the co-ordinates I just gave you."

"That's what I needed to hear, sir; I hope you understand. You should have a feed in two minutes."

…

Two minutes later, Guile thought about disappearing. Just leave everything behind, vanish to where nobody knew his name. Maybe trouble wouldn't be able to find him then. _I'd have to leave my family behind, though. And get rid of my tattoos. And I'd have to abandon my search for Charlie._

Cammy White, former enforcer for Shadaloo, had called earlier in the day with news. Just like that, out of the blue, called with news about Charlie Nash. _Googled for me, got the Masters' company website. It's almost ridiculous._ Nash was Guile's best friend. Had been the best man at Guile's wedding. Had taught Guile how to fight. Hadn't been seen in three years. Shadaloo had caught Nash trying to infiltrate their main base and was in the process of putting him in a holding cell when he escaped. After the escape, he'd never been seen again, by Shadaloo or anyone else. _At least I know he escaped._

That information explained how Cammy had managed to get through the screening process to the Chief of Security for Masters International. Information about Charlie Nash was a free pass to Guile. The real news she gave was that she had just been released from the hospital. Thunder Hawk had been released the day before. Four days ago they'd been attacked by someone. They didn't know by whom, but Guile did. Her description exactly matched Akuma, both in appearance and in fighting style.

They'd been attacked in New Mexico. Directly north of New Mexico was Colorado.

And now, a satellite was giving him a live picture from Colorado of an inferno. An inferno that used to be a three-story cabin. Ken and Eliza Masters' cabin.


	13. Professor Guile

**Professor Guile**

or,

** The Only Thing Worse Than Beating A Dead Horse Is Betting On One**

Guile sat on the bottom row of the bleachers, waiting to speak to the fighters filling the rows behind him. An old warehouse had been rented for the tournament, then cleaned, lit up and bleachers lined up against one wall.

Things were going about as bad as Guile expected them to. That is, a vast array of complaints and grumbling filled the room right along side of rumors and wild speculation. But that was only when it wasn't echoing with threats, challenges and crude descriptions of others' fighting abilities and styles. Fighters and competition didn't mix peacefully. It was stupid to give directions that wouldn't be followed, so Guile sat, listening to various conversations.

"There's only _two_ World Warriors here and like, a lot of the rest of us – how do we get a fair chance to get into the top rank? Do they get more chances to advance or do they just get to skip the early rounds?"

" 'Like, a lot of us'? Can't count too high with your shoes on, can ya?"

"When's this thing gonna start? I'm bored."

"I heard that some elites disappeared, that's why the tournament was called."

"I heard they called the tournament only after something happened in _America_."

"If you got such a big problem with America, why you here?"

"Where's Ryu? Pretty sad tournament without Ryu, I say."

"What about his bookend, Ken?"

"To hell with them, I wanted to see Chunli."

"Why only seven days to get ready for the tournament? How long have _they_ been ready?"

"Yeah, I came as quick as I could, and even so, there's only three days left!"

"…Weren't you just complaining you were bored?"

Then in through a set of double doors came an old man. He was covered in a dirt-stained sheet that was knotted where his left arm should have been. He stood inside the doors, looking around. Quickly, a younger man wishing to establish himself stood in front of him, hands on his hips, drawing every eye in the place.

In a voice rough and quiet with age, the old man said, "Let… me pass."

"You lost or something? This is an _invitational fighting _tournament, and I don't think you have an invitation, and you shouldn't try to fight, 'cause we'd get bad press when you died."

"Did you… get an… invitation?"

"Damn straight! And you ain't getting in without one!"

"Then I shall… take yours."

The younger man blinked, then threw a punch straight at the old man's beak-like nose. The old man caught the punch in his palm.

"Let me… pass."

Another punch was thrown from the arm that wasn't trapped, and the old man promptly used his grip to whip his opponent over his head and into the ground half a dozen times before throwing the unconscious body to the side.

A friend of the unconscious man howled his outrage and charged, hitting the shoulder of another old man, this one with a white beard, on his way towards the doors. Three steps later, he fell flat on his face and skidded to a halt, still face down, and remained still.

In the comparative quiet of the aftermath, Guile stood and faced the mass of fighters.

"The two fallen will not be in the tournament, and here's why!" Most of the voices faded. The ones that persisted weren't in English. "Dan, can you translate for me?"

Dan started asking questions in several languages. Meanwhile, the medical staff supplied by Karin's family carried out the two unconscious examples. Dan found that most of the fighters knew English or Japanese or had a friend who could translate from one of those two into their native tongue. The rest of the muttering died away.

Guile continued. "If you want to be in the tournament, listen up! Number one: I'm running this Charlie Foxtrot, so if someone shows up without an invitation, it's not your concern. I say who can and cannot enter the tournament, not you. Two! You're here, but not in the tournament yet, so don't aggravate me. Three! Respect these two gentlemen, who have been fighting longer then you've been breathing. This is for your benefit; if it wasn't obvious, they can beat the disrespectful into the ground in seconds. Any questions so far?"

An amused sound rippled through the audience, but there were no questions.

"Four, some of you have asked if you can challenge someone and fight before the tournament." The fighters in the bleachers began looking around for rivals. "I don't recommend it."

Guile hoped that the rules he had been working on for the past few days wouldn't come back to haunt him. "If you fight without asking me first, you're out of the tournament. If you want to settle a grudge, I might allow you to fight in the first round of the tournament. Might. But not before. Asking to fight myself or the other World Warrior here, Edmund Honda, will get you kicked. Basically, you can spar, you can practice, but fighting or asking to fight is a good way to get kicked out of the tournament. I might make exceptions, but don't expect one."

Somebody Guile didn't recognize spoke up. "So what the hell are we doing here if not to fight?"

There was a murmur of agreement. Guile sighed, mentally._ Well, now's as good a time as any._ He looked over the crowd, making sure he had their attention.

"Almost two months ago, a man who should be here at this tournament was murdered." It was dead silent except for Dan's Japanese. "His name was Dudley. He was a boxer. Some of you knew him, or of him. Since his death, there have been at least four other fighters murdered and several attacked in various attempts to murder them. Two of those killed were World Warriors." Whispers started up and died away as others hushed them.

"All five that were murdered, that I know of… Dudley, Rose, and Adon. And Dhalsim. And Zangief. They were murdered by the same bastard – Akuma."

Somebody called out of the crowd, "I thought Akuma was a story made up to scare the newbies."

"Nope. He's real, and he's killing fighters. And no, I don't know why."

"So what are we doing here? And where's the rest of the elites at?"

Guile shrugged. "This many specials in one spot will probably get Akuma's attention. He's a hunter and as far as I know, can find fighters anywhere in the world. As far as the rest of the elites? Well, Ryu's wandering around the world, as usual. Ken can find him wherever he's at usually, but Ken's missing-"

"What?!" Sean, Ken's greatest fan or biggest stalker, depending on how you looked at it, interrupted. "Where's he at? How come you don't know? Don't you work for him?"

Guile made a shushing motion with his hands. "Yeah, and he's also my… never mind that. Last I heard, he was on vacation in Colorado. Unfortunately, his vacation cabin has burned to the ground and I can't get a hold of him."

"What do you mean?! Was it Akuma? Is Ken alright? What happened?"

Guile looked at Sean for a moment. Sean's fanaticism towards all things Ken was very disturbing.

But the pause didn't give Guile a better way to put the truth, so he said, "I don't know."

"What?! How is that-"

"I. Don't. Know. But I don't believe in coincidences; Akuma attacked some others near there recently."

A dozen voices spoke up, all variations of "Who got attacked?"

Guile scanned the bleachers. "Some are here, some are not. I won't identify them, to spare them your attention. I'll say this: there were _three_ of them versus Akuma, all good enough to be here, and they pretty much feel lucky to be alive. The lucky part is a couple other fighters were nearby and helped drive Akuma off. They're not the only ones that have been attacked and survived, but that was the most recent that I know of.

"So. Back to business. I'm here, Ed's here. Ryu's… somewhere. Ken's missing. Zangief and Dhalsim are dead. Blanka lives in the Amazon jungle… somewhere. And he moves around at random. He tends to show up at tournaments anyway, but past results are no guarantee of future performance. Chunli has been invited, but obviously isn't here; just remember that the tournament hasn't started yet."

"I'd've stayed home too if I'd known," somebody muttered loud enough to be heard throughout the room.

Guile had been waiting for that one. "If you're scared, you have two options: Go home and hope that Akuma doesn't hunt you down or stay here with the rest of us and hope we can take care of Akuma. And by 'take care of Akuma', I mean, kill him."

A small Asian girl raised her hand and spoke.

Dan translated. "She said, 'Isn't that a rather difficult proposition?'"

Guile nodded. "Yeah. Akuma was killed at least two times in that recent attack I told you about. And, he was probably killed a third time in a previous incident. Yeah, I know, but I believe it. So if we shot him it wouldn't solve the problem, even without The Agreement. Add that he can teleport, and it's a bad mix. Consequently, if you go home now, I understand. But I think if we do not take him out now, he will hunt us down one by one. 'Either we shall all hang together or we shall all hang separately.' That's why I called this tournament, by the way."

The old man with one arm spoke. "What is this… agreement? …You placed an… emphasis… on that word."

Guile explained. "Most everybody here can make an Olympic athlete look sick and weak. Just our jumping abilities… even Ed, the sumo wrestler over there, can jump fifteen feet straight up from a standstill. _And_ land without breaking an ankle. Repeatedly. Anyway, we specials, those who can manipulate ki or chi or fighting spirit or ability or The Force or chakra or whatever you want to call it, surpass the physical abilities of all those who can't.

"Take those abilities and place guns in our hands, and we could kill anything we could see. And every nation in the world wants us in their army, or in their laboratories, which is far more likely… and much worse. So we made a deal, The Agreement, or Arrangement – if even one of us is ever drafted or dissected, we annihilate those responsible. By whatever means. Not just those doing the damage, although they're included, but the business or government that would benefit from it. Our side of the deal is fairly steep as well, to keep from being hunted down by irate governments. Basically, if any of us ever pick up a gun, even in self-defense, like from Akuma, we all become fair game. There are exactly two exceptions to that rule. One has been missing for years, the other is not here."

Guile smiled. "Even our resident would-be military dictator trains his men with everything but guns. Knives, batons, explosives, strangling wire, but not guns." Rolento's face flushed, his scars standing out white against the blush. "Don't worry about it, Rolento. Everybody needs a hobby." Guile's hobby had a rather large anti-dictator streak to it, but there was still business to attend to, so he continued.

"Anyway, I'm not into the 'I'm the good guy so I can't kick 'em while they're down' thing. Evil shouldn't triumph over good because good is stupid. I'd love to just shoot Akuma and be done with it. But that's wishful thinking because The Agreement exists, so… no shooting Akuma and being done with it.

"Back to the reason for the tournament: Permanently killing Akuma while not getting killed ourselves. If we all attacked him at once, we'd survive, but he'd probably just teleport away before we could take him down. Probably. If he did get away, he'd be on his guard against other traps. That means the best chance we have is to kill him in a fight in this tournament. And _that's _why I don't want any fights, not yet. But that's enough of that for now."

Guile turned towards the one-armed man. _I declared myself in charge, so I get the tough assignments. Well, unless I miss my guess, he'll know why I'm asking._ "Are you sure you wish to compete in the tournament with only one arm, sir?"

"My… name is Oro." There was a slow smile of the very aged. Suddenly he spun in a full circle, he still only had one arm, but it was the opposite one from before. "And if I… used… both arms, it… would be most… unfair… to my opponent."

Guile smiled, expecting nothing less from a man whose eyes glowed. "Welcome to our little tournament, Oro. And remember: no guns."

Oro didn't smile back. Instead, he stared off to an unoccupied corner of the warehouse, then bored holes in Guile with unblinking eyes. "I do not… know… this Akuma… but some… of the strong… may arrive… shortly."


	14. Rush

**Rush**

Every mouth in the room started talking at once. Guile shouted for attention and got it.

Guile looked around. "Does anybody here know Akuma, can feel him?

Gen said something at length. Dan translated, "I know Akuma's fighting spirit, but I cannot sense outside this room. There are too many others here. It is like trying to stare past a searchlight."

"Anybody else here ki sensitive?" Guile asked.

"I am."

Guile stared at Dan. "You're a hunter?"

"Not really. I have a range of about fifty meters. It's really accurate, but-"

Guile rolled his eyes. "But at that range, it's nearly worthless. Alright, everybody! Our distinguished visitor says we have multiple-" Guile broke off and looked at Oro. "There are multiple persons of fighting ability coming here, right?"

Oro nodded, slowly. "I did not… say they were… coming… here. I said… they… may… come here." Guile set his face in an extremely neutral expression. The bald, diaper-clad, old, old, _old_ man's speech was driving him crazy. "And they are… exceptional… Very strong."

"How many?" Guile kept his question short and to the point, waiting for the next reply.

"At least… three. Two come…" Guile wondered if it was possible for someone's head to explode from frustration. "…swiftly."

"Ok! We got three people coming here-"

"I can sense… more… warriors… in this… city… besides the three… focused on… where we… are."

"Are they coming here? How many?" Guile regretted asking two questions, but beating the old man didn't guarantee that he'd talk faster, and besides, he wasn't sure he could.

"Two. Also very… strong. But they are… not traveling… towards… any goal… Perhaps they are… lost?"

Guile wanted the last two minutes of his life back. "Great. Ok, we have some others coming, remember not everybody's here yet, the tournament hasn't even started, so don't get too excited. Now, remember-" Every face he could see looked over his shoulder with wide eyes.

Guile whirled, his hands coming up in reflex.

Akuma stood twenty feet behind him, his heavily muscled arms crossed across his chest. His eyes were a solid yellow, seeming to glow.

Guile blinked, trying to think of something to say. A yell startled him. Sean ran past him, still yelling something. Guile's grab came too late, missing Sean's shirt.

Sean stretched out his arms, reaching for Akuma. Akuma weaved back out of his grasp and broke Sean's shin with a kick. Sean screamed in pain, freezing the watching fighters. Guile was knocked to the side by a massive man, and realized then Sagat was not frozen by the violence. He was, in fact, throwing Sean. With one hand. Backwards. Right at Guile, and in the air the entire way. Guile caught the young Brazilian, attempting to keep damage to the broken leg at a minimum.

Guile looked up in time to see Akuma smile viciously at Sagat and half-turn, cupping his hands at his side. The fireball never materialized, Sagat's brutal shin kick slammed against Akuma's head, sending him tumbling over the concrete. Akuma rolled to his feet a full ten feet from where he'd been standing, a scowl carving deep lines in his face and stood, staring at the monolithic Muay Thai kickboxer. Sagat straightened from his fighting stance and stared back at Akuma with his good eye.

Guile yelled, "Hold it! Sagat, you're outta the tournament."

Sagat didn't move, and Guile lay Sean gently on the floor, yelling over his shoulder, "Dan, need translation!"

Without turning away from staring at Akuma, Sagat said, "I heard you." He snorted, then turned and walked towards Guile, completely ignoring Akuma. Instinctively, Guile glanced at Akuma. Akuma didn't take the bait, so Guile looked up as Sagat came to a halt uncomfortably close, looming over Guile. Rather than step back, Guile craned his neck up.

"Why am I out of the tournament?"

"You can't interfere with a fight, that's why! If it takes all of us, we'll stop you from interfering with a fight."

The two fighters stared at each other as Sean was loaded on a stretcher and carted off.

Sagat lowered his voice until only Guile could hear. "That was not a fight. That was about to be a murder." Sagat's face didn't change, but something did, and Guile resisted an urge to back out of Sagat's reach. "That was how Akuma murdered Adon. Adon was crippled, and Akuma murdered him anyway."

Guile made sure his voice didn't carry. "Not everybody here thinks Akuma is a danger. If enough of them leave, Akuma might go hunt them down instead of sticking around here. If you don't get disqualified, this tournament loses its credibility."

"Except for the way he appeared, I would say we should all attack him now."

"You can still help. You can keep Akuma away from the field hospital we got setup. Right now the former Dolls are guarding it. Cammy and Hawk's there too, but he's got a broken jaw and she's got some busted ribs. There's a lot of Dolls, and they're good, but…" Guile let the rest remain unsaid.

Sagat said, "Where is this medical place?"

"Out the main doors, turn right, three buildings down on the opposite side of the street. Has a blue passenger van out front. Knock once."

Sagat roared "Fine!" and threw his arms in the air, then turned and walked away. Guile watched him go. _Taunting Akuma with his back, playacting being upset about the disqualification for the audience... that man is way too smart. Glad he wants to help though. But now what do I do?_

As Sagat neared the doors, they opened and Ryu walked through. Ryu stopped upon seeing Sagat stalking towards him. Sagat never hesitated. He stepped right around Ryu and through the door before it closed.

Ryu looked back at the closed door then continued into the warehouse. His gi was in dire need of cleaning. Over his shoulder was his ever-present traveling rucksack. It needed cleaning too. He needed a haircut. He stopped halfway between Guile and Akuma.

"Hey Guile." Ryu's English was smooth and flawless, the product of Ken and Eliza Masters' long-term friendship.

"Hey Ryu."

"Hear you're having a tournament."

Guile nodded. "Yeah."

"Started yet?"

"Three days and it'll start."

Ryu paused, obviously thinking. "Do you have the rankings set?"

"Nope. Was about to start that."

"Mind if I open things up?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Ryu pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Akuma. "I always did like a challenge, and besides, he looks more prepared then anybody else."

Guile shrugged. "Any objections, Akuma?"

A moment passed. Five. Ten. Guile looked at Ryu and shrugged again. "I don't have any if he doesn't."

Ryu dropped his bag and knelt to open the top. He pulled out a pair of red guards and dropped them next to the bag, then started rummaging around deeper in the bag until he pulled out a slim wooden case. He opened it and pulled out a long strip of cloth. It was stained, frayed and had lost much of its original color. Ryu placed the case back in the bag and pulled the drawstring shut. Then he tied the cloth around his head, pulling his hair back out of his eyes and pulled on the guards.

Guile stared and both fighters then said, "Go."

As the two fighters circled, Gen and Dan stepped up next to Guile. Dan spoke over the yells of the watching fighters. "Gen says he has fought Akuma before and that's not him."

Guile looked sideways at Gen, then back out to the fight. "How so?"

Dan translated Gen's reply. "It's not Akuma's spirit, more like his Raging Demon. All the time."

"So this is the embodiment of one of Akuma's moves fighting," Guile winced, "and beating Ryu out there?"

Gen and Dan talked at length in Chinese while Guile watched the fight continue to tilt in Akuma's favor.

Dan spoke up. "Gen says that the Shun Goku Satsu is less a fighting move like a punch or kick and more of a technique to open a portal to hell for a split second. A forbidden technique because it usually kills both user and target. The portal is not open but something other than Akuma is in charge."

Guile's face was grim. "And now it's trying to kill everybody it fights. Do you know how we can stop it?"

After Dan's translation to Gen there was a pause that told Guile everything he needed to know.

Gen spoke at last, and Dan said, "He doesn't know how to stop it. But he thinks Akuma coming back to life is tied to the Murderous Intent taking over."

Guile looked over to the fight in time to see Ryu take an uppercut square on the jaw. Ryu's limp form was airborne. _Well, that's that, _Guile thought. Then the landing revived Ryu a bit, and he staggered to his feet. Guile felt the blood drain out of his face as Ryu reeled, punch drunk and vulnerable.

"Ryu! No! Stay down!"

There was an unmistakable flash of ki, and Akuma slid forward with one knee raised, blue afterimages trailing behind him.


End file.
